Spongebob Squarepants: Doubt What You See
by Lenny Oliver
Summary: When a string of murders and strange goings-on erupt in Bikini Bottom, Spongebob is swept up in a complex maze of double-crossings and crime that could determine the fate of the universe. (Now featuring Scooter.)
1. Chapter 1: A Mysterious Stranger

_(A/N: Okay, so this is my first fanfic you guys, and I hope it's really good. Please review!)_

Spongebob Squarepants was riding on his unicycle home from the Krusty Krab one day. He had become awfully sick of his unicycle because it made his legs really tired whenever he used it. He still didn't have a boater's license, even though he had been trying to get it for years now. He was set up for taking another test the next day, but he was starting to get discouraged. He had been trying to get a license for so long, and all the failures were starting to catch up with his emotions. He had been so optimistic, but now he was letting himself get himself down, which was strange. Spongebob was usually an optimistic guy, and discouragement didn't suit him.

Just before he got to his pineapple, Spongebob decided to go visit his best friend and neighbor, Patrick Star. On the rare occasions when Spongebob got down, being with Patrick always managed to pick him up in the past. _(A/N: Not like that. This is NOT slash.)_ So Spongebob decided to turn into the driveway to Patrick's rock and ask if he wanted to go to the goo lagoon or goofy goober's.

But when Spongebob got up to Patrick's rock he noticed that not only Patrick wasn't there but there was also a strange fish in a trenchcoat, fedora, and sunglasses carrying a briefcase outside the rock. He was talking on a headset under his breath, but stopped when Spongebob got near. "Excuse me, sir, but do you know a Mr. Patrick Star?" asked the strange fish. "I heard he lived in this rock, but he doesn't seem to be home. Do you know where he might be?"

"No, I was also looking for him as well" replied Spongebob. He was confused by the strange fish and his questions. Patrick had never mentioned a fish who looked anything like this, so Spongebob was confused and a bit worried. Could this man be some sort of government agent looking for Patrick?

"Thanks anyways, kid," the fish grunted. "Let me know if you see him," he muttered, and handed Spongebob a business card. It was plain white except for what looked like diamonds in the upper-left corner in the shape of a seagull.

"Excuse me, sir, but there isn't any way to contact you written on this card."

"If you can't see it, you're not meant to see it," the strange fish said dismissively as he walked away. Spongebob looked at the card, confused. Maybe there was something written in invisible ink? Or maybe the card needed to be in a certain light for the text to appear. When he got home, Spongebob experimented with putting the cards in various positions to see if he could find out how to see what was written on the card.

After a few hours, Spongebob looked at his clock. "Ten'o'clock already? I've got to study for my boater's exam!" he exclaimed out loud. He started looking around for his boater's handbook, but it was nowhere to be found. "Gary!" he shouted "have you seen my boater's handbook?" Gary didn't meow back though, so Spongebob ran upstairs to see him.

"Gary?" he tentatively inquired as he looked around the corner into his room. Gary was in there alright but he seemed different. Instead of crawling around meowing like he usually was, Gary was curled up inside of his shell, trembling. "What's the matter Gary?" Spongebob demanded. Gary didn't respond.

Spongebob kept looking for his boater's handbook, and eventually found it in his refridgerator. He sat down at his desk and started studying, but he fell asleep almost instantly because the work was so boring. That night he had a bad dream. He dreamed that he was taking his boater's exam, but was doing poorly. The boat was zipping through traffic, and he and Mrs. Puff were trying to get away from something that was chasing them. Mrs. Puff was screaming. The sound sounded very real, but also far away.

Spongebob woke up in a cold sweat with the sun just peeking through his blinds. "Barnacles!" he exclaimed when he noticed the time. "I'm going to be late for my boater's exam if I don't hurry!" Spongebob hopped onto his unicycle and pedaled very hard to get there on time.

"Sorry I'm late!" he shouted as he opened the door. "I overslept! I'm really sorry Mrs. Puff, just give me a cha-" But Mrs. Puff wasn't there. There was only a pale green fish in a beige suit sitting at her desk, going through her things.

"Oh, you must be one of Mrs. Puff's students," he said surprised. "I just took down the sign saying that classes were canceled today because I thought everyone had arrived, but I guess not." He chuckled. "Sorry, you won't be having your boater's exam today."

Spongebob's mouth went dry as he remembered his dream from the night before. "Why not?" First Patrick was missing, then there was that strange fish and Gary's odd behavior, and now Mrs. Puff wasn't in class? What was going on?

The green fish went deathly serious. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd heard." Spongebob's eyes went wide as the fish spoke his next words. Spongebob's life was about to be changed forever.

"Mrs. Puff was killed last night in an incident on Conch Street."


	2. Chapter 2: Questions

(A/N: Just letting you guys know that there is currently two writers writing this story, alternating between chapters. You man notice different styles of writing in each chapter, which is the result of this. Cheerio. And, yeah, what he said. Review, doods.)

"Excuse me?" Spongebob replied in disbelief.

"I'm afraid it's true," responded the fish.

"That's ridiculous. Th-this is Bikini Bottom. No one ever dies in Bikini Bottom. For christ sakes, it's a childrens show!"

"It's a what now?" asked the fish.

"Oh, nothing," answered Sponge.

"Well, I really must be going," the fish said, as he scurried out of the classroom, but not before stuffing a few papers from Mrs. Puff's desk into his briefcase. "Sorry for your loss kid."

"Wait!" yelled Spongebob after him. "Can't you tell me what happened? You can't just break the news to me and run off!"  
>But it was too late. The door slammed behind him, and just like that Spongebob was left alone.<p>

Hundreds of thoughts raced through his head the ride home. How did it happen? Was Gary's behavior some indication something was wrong? Could Patrick's absence be connected somehow? More questions than answers. But that's what Spongebob needed. Answers. He decided the best place to go would be the police station. Maybe they could shed some light on the matter. Shucks, maybe they already had someone in custody. Maybe.

Spongebob approached the police station, hoping he would learn a little something to set his mind at ease. He walked through the doors and approached the counter.

"Greetings, officers. I understand my boating instructor Mrs. Puff has been killed as a result of an incident on Conch Street last night," Spongebob said to the two officers standing behind the counter, attempting to hold back tears. "I was wondering if there is any way you could explain a little more on the matter?"

The officers exchanged glances, followed by hushed whispers between the two. Finally, one of them spoke.

"Kid, we haven't heard anything about a death. Can you tell us where you heard this?"

"I-I got the information from a man in a suit, down at the Boating School..." Spongebob replied, a little taken back.

The officers rushed out the door. Eager to find out what was going on, Spongebob stealthily travelled behind them on his unicycle.

He hid behind a coral, as the officers rushed into the school. After what seemed like an eternity, they slowly walked out. Without saying a word, they ambled back to the boat and drove off.

"What in the world was going on?" thought Spongebob. In the distance, he noticed a paper on the deck of the Boating School.

"That must be one of the papers the man took from Mrs. Puff's desk," Spongebob thought. He pondered just leaving it. I mean, it wasn't any of his business, but the temptation was too strong. He raced over and began to read.

Mrs. Puff's Mark Sheet

Spongebob Squarepants - F Patrick Star - F Squidward Tentacles - F Sandy Cheeks - F Mr. Krabs - F Pearl Krabs - F Plankton - F

"This can't be right," Spongebob questioned to himself. "None of these people are in Mrs. Puff's class, besides myself. Something has to be wrong here."

Then, Spongebob noticed, in the upper-left corner, a shape of a seagull, made of what seemed to be diamonds.


	3. Chapter 3: Quest for Answers

Spongebob looked down the list of names. Patrick was missing, Mrs. Puff had some stranger rooting through her things, and, come to think of it, he hadn't heard the sounds of Squidward's clarinet the previous night. Something strange was definitely going on, and it definitely involved the people on this list. Spongebob looked at the rest of the names, but they were all strangers.

Randy Gills – A  
>Dominic Roughneck – A+<br>Arthur Bottomfeeder – B

What could the meaning of this list be? And why were all the main characters failing the "class"? "Wait a second," he thought to himself, "what am I thinking? 'Kids' Show'? 'Main Characters'? I'm going crazy!"

Spongebob knew he had to talk to somebody about this list, but who? The police were no help. He looked back at the list. If Patrick and Squidward really were missing, then he couldn't go to them. Whoever was organizing all this strangeness had probably gotten to Sandy already, too, so who was left? Plankton and Pearl weren't exactly trustworthy, so that left only Mr. Krabs.

Of course! Mr. Krabs! He had been at work yesterday and had answered the phone when Spongebob called in that morning. He might be able to give Spongebob the answers that this case was desperately lacking. He hopped on his unicycle and rode to the Krusty Krab.

He asked for Mr. Krabs immediately when he got there. "What is it, Spongebob?" asked Mr. Krabs. Spongebob was out of breath from all the unicycle-riding he had done that day, and was looking frantic because of all the strange goings-on. He didn't know whether or not he should ask Mr. Krabs about the seagull symbol outright. He decided to play it cool.

"Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Krabs, but I'm having trouble reading what's on this card, and it's very important. Do you think you could help me?"

"Oh, is that all?" Mr. Krabs said. He started laughing, thinking that it was just another time Spongebob got worked up over something little. But, when Spongebob handed him the business card the fish in the trenchcoat had given him, his eyes went wide. He collected himself quickly, but Spongebob noticed that something was up. "Oh! Er…no, sorry m'boy, but I can't read it either."

All of a sudden, Mr. Krabs got a grave look on his face and put his claw on Spongebob's shoulder. "My eyes aren't what they used to be."

"Well, thanks anyways, Mr. Krabs." Spongebob took the card back and started to walk out.

"Wait!" called Mr. Krabs as Spongebob was about to leave the room. "Are you absolutely certain you can't make out what's written on the card?"

"Positive," replied Spongebob, and he walked out. As he left, he could hear Mr. Krabs dialing a phone through the door.

Once Spongebob got home, he checked on Gary again. Gary still hadn't moved from the spot he was in the night before. What was wrong with that snail? Was there a thunderstorm coming in, or something more sinister? Spongebob was about to tuck himself into bed when his telephone rang. Spongebob picked it up and was about to say hello when the voice on the other end of the line started shouting at him.

"Spongebob! You have to get to a safer place while there's still time!"

Spongebob gasped. It was Mrs. Puff. "Mrs. Puff-" he started, about to demand some answers, when he was again interrupted.

"Spongebob, I tried to protect you like I tried to protect Patrick, but they've already got to him. If they've already given you the card, then they're probably after you next."

"But Mrs. Puff, I can't-"

"I know you can't read the card! That doesn't matter right now. If they start looking into you, they could find something…unsavory." Mrs. Puff sounded worried. Spongebob wondered what could be unsavory about him. He was just a nice, friendly sponge who tried to stay out of trouble. And who would want to look into him anyways?

"Spongebob, you're going to have to go into hiding for a while," Mrs. Puff continued. "Eugene and I have arranged for somewhere you can hide out." Spongebob listened intently to her directions. "Arthur will be waiting for you there. He might be able to tell you what's going on. He and I are working against the Larideans together, so don't worry, we can protect you."

"Thanks, Mrs. Puff. I'll do my best," Spongebob said. He was about to hang up the phone, when he heard Mrs. Puff shout something.

"Remember, Spongebob, sometimes it's what you _don't_ see that counts."

Spongebob gulped, left some food by Gary, and hopped onto his unicycle. He still didn't have any answers, but at least he had somewhere to go. He arrived at the hideout very quickly, and just as he was about to knock on the door, it swung ajar.

"You must be Spongebob Squarepants, come in," a familiar voice said from inside. "My name is Arthur Bottomfeeder, and I'll be protecting you from those nasty seagull-people for now."

As the door opened, Spongebob looked forwards in shock. Standing in front of him was a pale green fish in a beige suit, the same one who had been at the boating school that morning.


	4. Chapter 4: A Blurred Vision

Spongebob couldn't believe his eyes. Perhaps he was mistaken? He decided to make sure this really was the same fish he had encountered just mere hours ago.

"You look familiar..." Spongebob said slowly. "Have I met you before?"

"Ah yes," Arthur replied., pouring a clear liquid into a wine glass. "We met at Mrs. Puff's boating school this morning. Apple cider?"

"No thanks." Sponge answered. "Listen, I'm really confused right now. I have a lot of thoughts running through my head, but I'm not sure where to start."

"Take a seat," Arthur suggested.

Spongebob hadn't really taken much time to look around. He scanned the room, but all he saw was a cupboard, a coffee table, and two chairs on either side.

"So," Arthur said. "What do you have to ask me, Mr. Squarepants?"

"Uhm, I guess I have to ask," Spongebob said carefully. "If you knew Mrs. Puff hadn't died this morning, why did you tell me she did?"

"You see Spongey," Arthur replied. "I didn't know at the time. I just got a call from Mrs. Puff herself not 20 minutes ago. I was just as surprised as you are."

"I see...wait just one minute! What was up with those papers you were taking from Mrs. Puff's desk this morning?"

"Oh those little things? Those were just some pieces of Mrs. Puff's work I thought the police might want to investigate. You know, tests, diagrams, those kinds of things."

"Yeah, but you see, I went down to the police station after I spoke with you, and they said that they hadn't even heard of Mrs. Puff's...'death'."

"Well, after I took the papers I drove down to the station myself to give to the officers, but there was no one there. I was wondering where those scallywags went off to."

"Oh, well I guess I understand now..."

Just then, Spongebob remembered the mark sheet he had found outside the Boating School. He pulled it out of his back pocket and showed Arthur.

"But why were you taking this?" Spongebob asked. "I think Mrs. Puff made a mistake while making this, besides myself, none of these people are even in her class! Look! Even you're on here?"

Arthur's eyes went wide.

"Where did you get that?" he said gravely.

"It was outside the Boating School. I'm pretty sure you dropped it. And look here! There's that seagull sign! Any idea what's up with that thing?"

"Spongebob, I want you to leave right now," Arthur said in a serious tone.

"But Mrs. Puff said I have to st-"

"I don't care what Mrs. Puff said! Get out!" Arthur yelled.

Spongebob was shocked.

"Now!" Arthur screamed.

Spongebob dropped the sheet and ran out the door. As he ran he could hear the sounds of ripping paper.

"Can't I catch a break?" Spongebob said to himself.

Soon, he arrived back at his house. As he was about to walk in the door, he noticed Squidwards front door was wide open.

"That's strange," Spongebob thought. "Squid would never leave his door open! I bet he wouldn't mind if I checked it out..."

Spongebob slowly entered and peered around. Everything looked the way it usually looked. He was about to leave, when he heard the sound of Squidwards clarinet, coming from the top floor. He hadn't heard it the night before, but maybe Squid had just decided to take a rain check that night. Eager to go see if he had any idea what was going on, he raced up the stairs.

"Squidward?" he said, walking down the hallway. The sounds of the clarinet were echoing through the halls. "Squid, you in here?"

Spongebob took one step into Squidward's room, and before he could react, he felt something hit him hard in the head. He fell hard to the floor, and attempted to open his eyes, but before he could, someone tightned something around his face. A plastic bag? He tried to screa, but it just came out as a muffle. His attacked tied back his arms with a long black cord, and began to drag him down the hall. The plastic over Spongebob's face made everything blurry. He could make out a few colours, but it was to hard to tell what was what. It was looking looking in a fogged up mirror after a long shower.

And then,  
>black.<br> 


	5. Chapter 5: Exposition

As Spongebob slowly came to, he heard two voices murmuring at one another. He couldn't quite make out what they were saying at first, but their words gradually became clearer. The voices sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place them.

"Damn that Poppy. Ever since Eugene started regressing, she's been a total pain in the ass."

"Yeah, well there's nothing we can do about it? Did you find any dirt when you looked into her office?"

"No, only some inconsequential boating school documents. Tests, diagrams, that sort of thing."

Wait, what?

"So Bottomfeeder got there first, huh? Looks like there's no doubting it. They're definitely in cahoots."

"And he was so promising, too. So it goes, I guess."

"Well, we got Star, at least. Tentacles might not have been much, but maybe this one has something going for him."

"Speak of the devil! He's starting to come to. Can you put him to sleep again? And be a bit more careful, he almost died last time."

Spongebob felt the plastic bag again. He didn't try to struggle this time, and the already-blurry images of his captors became even more difficult to make out. As his head got lighter and he felt consciousness drift away, Spongebob reflected one last time on what the kidnappers had said to each other. They said that all Arthur had _left_ was tests and diagrams, but Arthur had told him that that was all he had _taken_. Spongebob went under once again, wondering who he could trust in this whole situation.

When Spongebob awoke for the second time, he was greeted with a slap across the face. "What can you make out?" one of the voices from before demanded. "Can you see my face?"

Spongebob blinked and tried to see, but he just saw some vague shapes and couldn't make out any definite features. Spongebob moaned and shook his head.

There was a clicking sound, and then Spongebob's captor spoke again. "Subject Squarepatns shows difficulty recovering vision after unconsciousness, even with physical persuasion." He slapped Spongebob again. "See me yet?"

"No."

There was a clicking again. Spongebob guessed the stranger was speaking into a tape recorder. "Subject Squarepants shows difficulty recovering vision after unconsciousness, even with extensive physical persuasion." Spongebob heard him put the tape recorder on a table. "I guess we'll have to wait."

The stranger asked Spongebob about his vision periodically over the next few minutes, until Spongebob could finally make out the man who had been holding him captive.

"You're the stranger from Patrick's house!" he said.

"That's right," said the stranger. "I didn't notice anything special about you when we first met, but, given Puff's conduct with Star and Tentacles, we need to revisit almost every one of her more recent screening assignments. It's a real pain in my ass, so here's hoping you're worth my time." He opened up a can of something. "Beer?"

"I didn't know alcohol even existed in Bikini Bottom."

"You're a real naïve kid, aren't you?" The stranger smirked. "My name's George, and you're going through the third phase of the Laridean screening process." George pulled out a piece of paper. "According to our records, haven't even passed the first phase of the screening process, but, like I said, Puff's been – how should I put this? – fudging the numbers, and the implications of this mean that we can't take any chances."

"What do you mean?" asked Spongebob. He had been receiving so much information recently that he didn't know what was the truth.

George sighed. "I don't want to give too many details, since we don't even know for sure if you're a quality investment, but I guess, since we've already brought you in, I may as well enlighten you." He cleared his throat and held a slip of paper in front of Spongebob's face. Spongebob looked it over.

Mrs. Puff's Mark Sheet

Spongebob Squarepants – F

Patrick Star – F

Squidward Tentacles – F

Sandy Cheeks – F

Mr. Krabs – D-

Pearl Krabs – F

Plankton – F

"Why is Mr. Krabs at a D-? When I saw Mrs. Puff's other mark sheet, he was at an F like the rest of us."

"You saw the other mark sheet?" George was frantic, but he collected himself quickly, just like Mr. Krabs had done the previous day. "Never mind, never mind. That information should be confidential, but I guess I've shown you just now. You hadn't told anybody what you saw, did you?"

Spongebob stewed for a moment. Evidently, George had a problem with Arthur. He decided it would be best not to let on that they had communicated. "No. Nobody."

"Good. Anyways, Mr. Krabs' abilities aren't what they used to be. It's not uncommon for people to regress in their old age. But back to the mark sheet in general. It's the first stage of our screening process. Somebody with a talent for sniffing out potential Larideans, like Puff, keeps tabs on people around town. They use these mark sheets to keep a record of their aptitude, and they tell us executives when it's time to get a civvie in on the next phase of screening, or request that an older member come in for re-evaluation and possibly retirement. Puff is a great screener with a real eye for talent, and there were never any errors in her work. But then something suspicious happened."

"What was it?"

"She reported those six failures."

Spongebob was confused. "Why is that suspicious? If you're such a secret organization, wouldn't you get a lot of failures?"

George shook his head. "More people can do what we do than you might think. It's just that a C or a D isn't much to get excited about for what we're looking for, so we don't often advance them up into further stages of screening.

"At first I brushed aside these failures as a string of bad luck, until I had a chance meeting with one Mr. Patrick Star. Spongebob, I'm not much of a screener, but even I could sense Star's potential. It hit me like a ton of bricks, and I can just barely sense the power of even a high-ranked member of our organization. Do you understand what this means?" George looked at Spongebob expectantly.

"Not really."

George sighed in disgust. "It means that Puff was trying to keep Star away from us." Spongebob remembered that Mrs. Puff had said something about trying to protect Patrick. "I decided to get him in on the second stage of screening, which is when we give the subject a business card. If they can read the number, they pass. Simple as that, really."

"That's when we met!"

George nodded. "At first I didn't realize that you were one of Puff's failures, and I gave you a card sort of as a joke. I came to check out Tentacles and was just playing some clarinet when you came in, and I made a spur-of-the moment decision to get you into our third stage, which is this interview."

"But _I _couldn't read the card!"

"Squarepants, I don't think you grasp exactly how serious this situation is. Not only was Puff lying to us, but she was lying to us about Star. Why would she try to keep somebody that talented from us? Whatever's going on, it's big. Maybe even bigger than the cards."

"What do you mean?" Spongebob was unsettled by how calm George seemed. Even though what he was talking about seemed serious, he kept his face expressionless.

"The cards aren't foolproof, Spongebob. We have other methods of seeing if you're what we're looking for." George scratched his left eye. "Did anything about that seem…off to you?"

"Um, no."

George nodded. "Alright, then. Maybe there's something else we can do."

Over the course of the next few hours, George asked Spongebob all sorts of strange questions and showed him some flash cards. Spongebob felt that maybe he was doing something wrong, because, after every test, George seemed disappointed and muttered something into the tape recorder.

"Alright, Squarepants," he said, "I'm not going to mince words: your performance has been disappointing. However, there's one last test. It takes a while to set up, so I'm going to leave you alone in this room for a while. I may not be back for another hour or two. Will you be okay here?"

Spongebob nodded, and George left. He looked around the room. There wasn't much light; most of it came from a candle on George's desk and a small window high on the wall.

All of a sudden, somebody called for Spongebob from the window, and he looked over. "Spongebob, it's me, Larry. Don't worry, Spongebob, I'm going to bust you out of here."


	6. Chapter 6: Bugged

"Larry?"

Spongebob's mind began to race. How did Larry find him here? Did he have any idea what was going on? And why is Ryan Reynolds so adorable? But he knew this was no time for questions, or answers. It was time to get out.

"C'mon Spongebob!" Larry spoke very fast, but quietly, not to attract attention and risk George hearing. "I'll help you up through this window, but we have to get out of here!"

Spongebob frantically got up from the chair he had been in for God knows how long, and approached the window. It was about seven or eight feet high, and maybe two or so feet wide, but he knew Larry would have no problem helping him up. Spongebob jumped as high as he could and felt Larry's claws grab his hands. He was quickly hoisted up and outside of the building in no time. Spongebob looked around. The window he had just crawled out of was not a foot off the ground, and the building he was in could have been no more than two rooms wide. The once blue paint was chipping off the walls, and there wasn't another building as far as the eye can see.

"Spongebob what are you waiting for!" said Larry, gesturing for Spongebob to follow. He couldn't seem to keep his eyes focused on one thing. He was looking around quickly, darting his head around. "We have to get a move on!"

"Larry, how did you find me?" Spongebob said, running after him. "I mean you couldn't have just stumbled b-"

"No time, Spongebob! I'll explain later, just hurry!"

"No!" Spongebob came to a stop, his voice raised to a tone Larry had never heard. "I'm tired of waiting for explanations! You're going to tell me what in tarnations is going on!"

"Spongebob you don't underst-"

"No Larry, you don't understand! I'm done blindly following people and taking orders. For all I know, you're in cahoots with those guys, and you're gonna backstab as soon as we get wherever you're leading me. I'm on my own."

Spongebob turned and started to walk in the opposite direction. He could hear the footsteps of Larry chasing after him.

"Sponge, I'm not going to do anything to hurt you? But I honestly can't tell you what's going on. They're...they're watching."

"Who? Who is watching? Why do you people have to be so damn discreet?"

"Sponge, I've...I've already said too much. Just please come!"

"Just say it Larry! Tell me what is going on! You know how cliched that is? 'I've said too much.' I mean, if you tell me what's going on, even if whoever is, 'watching', will blast you with tartar sauce for explaining the situation, at least I'll know! Stop being so difficult!"

Just then, Spongebob could hear a silent buzzing.

"Wait, wh- what is that?" As he moved closer to Larry the buzzing got louder. "Wait a second? Are you bugged? What is that?"

Spongebob pulled a black object out of Larry's ear, only to find it was a small sort of, walkie talkie device.

"Is, is someone telling you what to say? I knew it! I knew you were up to something! Who the hell are you talking to anyways?"

Spongebob put the device into his ear and began yelling.

"Who is this? Who is the mastermind behind brainwashing Larry? C'mon, speak up!"

After a few moments of silence, the person on the opposite end spoke.

"Hi Spongebob."

Spongebob couldn't believe it. He dropped the device and began to run. The voice belonged to Patrick. 


	7. Chapter 7: Trust

"Spongebob, wait, please!" Patrick shouted from the device. "Just come back, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know." Spongebob turned around, and walked back towards the walkie talkie. Begrudgingly, he picked it up and put it in his ear.

"Patrick? Oh my God, don't tell me they've gotten to you, too!" As Spongebob said these words, he realized that he didn't know who "they" were exactly; whose side was Patrick on? Maybe Patrick was trustworthy, though. Spongebob knew that, if there was anybody in Bikini Bottom who would be straight with him, it would be Patrick.

"Just relax, Spongebob. I'm in control of the situation. Nobody's 'gotten to me', and I don't plan on that happening any time soon." Something sounded different about Patrick's voice, no, his tone. His normally goofy-sounding, carefree voice had a serious edge to it today. "I _am_ working with the Larideans, but don't worry. My first priority is keeping my best friend safe."

Spongebob was touched, but not quite convinced. "If you want to keep me safe so bad, then why send Larry to rescue me instead of coming yourself?"

Patrick sighed. "I'm not allowed to leave this room, Spongebob. It's too dangerous outside. The Larideans don't know exactly what Arthur's plan is for me – or what it his plan is for you, for that matter – but we do know that it won't be pleasant for anybody. You see, Arthur and Mrs. Puff are – "

"I've already met Arthur."

"You have? Good, then that will cut down on a lot of explaining. Alright, is Larry still with you? He's supposed to be escorting you to a hideout."

Spongebob looked around and found Larry rolling around in a dumpster, muttering to himself over and over, "I'm a Cabbage Patch Kid." "I don't think Larry's in a position to escort anybody anywhere right about now," Spongebob said.

"Then I'll send somebody else. Just stay safe, okay?"

"Thanks for looking out for me, Pat."

"No problem. And Spongebob, before I disconnect, is there anything else you need to know?"

"Yeah, actually. Why did you break me out of the Laridean base if you're on their side?"

"I might be on their side, but first and foremost, I'm on _your_ side. I heard that George was setting up the 'Last Resort Test' for you, and I couldn't let that happen. It would – well, it would be bad."

Spongebob gulped. It was scary to hear Patrick like this. "What do you mean, 'bad?' Why would it be bad?"

"Spongebob, if you took that test, two things would happen," Patrick said. He was so serious, Spongebob thought it was like talking to a different person. "The first is that George would realize you're not cut out to be a Laridean. The second is that he and the others wouldn't just stop the screening process; Spongebob, they would _kill_ you."


	8. Chapter 8: The Tale of Norville McGregor

Kill? Did Patrick just say, kill?

"What are you talking about Pat? You can't kill me...I-I'm the main character."

"Get real Spongebob! Ever see M*A*S*H? McLean Stevenson?"

"Yeah well, technically Alan Alda played the main character. Stevenson was more of a member of the princibal cast."

"None the less, news flash Sponge, this is a fan-fiction. Anything can happen. Hell, it can turn out I'm actually a transexual serial killer from Romania named Patricia, and this whole thing was set-up so I can lure you into an undisclosed location and murder you myself."

There was a small lull before Patrick spoke again.

"I'm joking Sponge! You really think I'd do that to my best friend?"

Spongebob paused before replying with,

"Di-did you just say...fan-fiction?"

"Yes fan-fiction. Back to the point, you really, really need to go with Larry to an undisclosed location. Once George and his goons have given you the Last Resort Test, there's nothing else we can do for you."

Spongebob figured there was no point in arguing any longer. He gave Patrick a quick bye, and tossed the earpiece back to Larry.

"So, Pat said you needed to take me somewhere?" Spongebob reluctantly asked Larry.

"Yeah. Now, let's get a move on. We're wasting daylight."

They began walking. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into hours. Spongebob didn't know how long they were walking for, or where they were walking to, but he finally got a clue as to where they were going. Standing in front of him was a sign which read:

NOW ENTERING ROCK BOTTOM

"Rock Bottom? Uh-uh. No way am I going back there again Lar. Too many memories."

"Spongebob, it's the only place we know the Laridean's won't check!" Larry answered back.

"And why is that?" asked Spongebob.

Larry sighed.

"I don't know if I should be telling you this Sponge, but hear goes. You see, George, one of the men who was keeping you captive in that building, used to live in Rock Bottom. Back then he didn't go by George though. I believe his name was Norville. Norville McGregor. Anyways, every day he would go to the vending machine and grab a Kelp Bar before heading to work. But this day was different. He approached the vending machine as usual, pushed his money in the slot, and ordered a Kelp Bar. It was at that time he noticed his shoe was untied. He figured, 'Hey, don't wanna trip and drop my Kelp Bar,' so the poor soul figured he'd tie it. As we was finishing the second loop, he heard loud footsteps departing from the vending machine. He looked up to see a large creature running away. As George, or Norville if you prefer, reached into the slot to grab his Kelp Bar, he realized it was gone. Boy, did that set him off. I mean, this man loved his Kelp Bars. He went home and quickly hopped on on . He then ordered a shotgun, double barrelled. It arrived in no less then two weeks. Then, without taking a second thought, he went out on the streets of Rock Bottom and began shooting people. Men, women, parents, babies, everyone in sight. Deprivation of a Kelp Bar can really set a guy over the edge. But what George didn't know was one guy got away. Little Jimmy Kratmer. He saw Norville's destruction and took the next bus to Bikini Bottom. There he reported the incident to the local police. Man, they had SWAT team down there in no time. But when they arrived at Bikini Bottom, no one was in sight. Just dead bodies and a stream of Kelp Bar wrappers. You see, once Norville thought he had killed everyone in town, he took off. A deserted building on the outskirts or Bikini Bottom. Infact, it was the same building he was holding you in. Changed his name as well. Goes by George Minkus now, as you may know. After that day Spongebob, George vowed never to return to Rock Bottom again."

Spongebob was speechless. Finally, he brought himself to ask a question.

"Larry, how do you know all this?"

Larry paused.

"Because, you see Spongebob, Norville...is my father."

Spongebob was dumbfounded. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"Lar, you, you gotta be kidding me."

"I am." Larry burst out laughing. "I made up that whole thing. Not bad, eh? But man, you shoulda seen your face! You were all, 'Larry's the son of a homicidal maniac, oh no!' Classic man, classic."

Before Spongebob had time to react, there was a deafening blam. He watched as Larry's eyes grew wide. Spongebob looked down to Larry holding his chest. Blood. Larry was bleeding. Seconds later, he dropped to the ground, dead."  
> <p>


	9. Chapter 9: An Old Friend

His ears still ringing, Spongebob slowly looked up at from Larry's convulsing crustacean corpse. His life had been going so crazy recently that he couldn't even bring himself to act surprised when he saw that Sandy Cheeks was holding the gun.

"Oh, pleasure seeing you, Sandy," Spongebob said sarcastically. "So, tell me, are you here to take me to a 'safe place'? But before you do, I have to know, are you planning on using me or murdering me? Or maybe both? Or maybe you're – "

"Can it, Spongebob," Sandy said as she grabbed his arm. "We don't have time for this." Spongebob tried to pull away, but Sandy wasn't having it. "I'm sorry, Spongebob, but I need you to just trust me. Things are too important right now."

Spongebob snorted. That was a new one. "Trust." Not like anybody had told him that he needed to trust them before. No-siree. Now that Sandy had used the word _trust_, well, that changes everything. Now he would follow her to the _surface_, if necessary, because he _trusted_ her.

"Spongebob, your sarcasm isn't helping the situation."

"Erm, sorry, Sandy." Spongebob thought he had been doing an internal monologue, but apparently such was not the case. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"The Treedome. Our agreement with the Larideans marks that as a safe place, so you don't have to worry. We'll be there in a minute, Spongebob."

Sure enough, they were there before they knew it. Sandy took Spongebob inside, and opened up some sort of underground tunnel. She led him down through it, and into a small room with two chairs. The chairs were facing a window that looked into another room. "This is a one-way mirror. I'm going to have a few fish walk through there, and I'd like you to tell me what colour they are."

Spongebob wasn't thrilled about taking any more tests, but he did what she asked. Every time he told Sandy a colour, she would tell it to a handheld radio, and a voice would come back saying, "Roger." After a few dozen fish, Sandy picked up the radio again. "All clear," she said. "Can we get the results right away?"

"Of course," said the voice. "He seems to only be seeing the top layer."

Sandy started rubbing her temples. "I was afraid of that," she muttered, and she grabbed something out of her pocket. "Here's my card, Spongebob."

Spongebob looked at the card. There were some black stones in the lower-right corner that were in the shape of a squirrel. A series of meaningless letters, numbers, and symbols were written all over the card. "Sandy," Spongebob said tentatively, "this, uh…this doesn't look like a phone number."

Sandy looked up. "What _does _it look like," she asked hopefully.

"Just a bunch of gibberish." Sandy looked back down again. "Look, Spongebob, you can go now, if you'd like. Patrick probably has a search party looking for you, and – "

Just then, the radio picked up a signal. "Ms. Cheeks? There's somebody here to see you. It's _him_."

Sandy sighed exasperatedly. "What does he want this time?"

"I don't know. He was being all cute about it. Probably intelligence on the Larideans or something."

"Alright, send him in. Tell him I'm in the testing chamber." Sandy didn't sound excited. "Sorry, Spongebob, but this guy can be a bit of a handful. Just try not to – "

At that moment, the door swung open. "Oh, sweety, you're with the Sciurideans now? Well, isn't that just super!" Standing in the doorway was Arthur Bottomfeeder.


	10. Chapter 10: Rolling With the Punches

The room was silent. Finally, Spongebob broke the silence.

"Dude, before you do whatever you came in to do, can I just ask you one question?"

"Shoot, Mr. Sassypants." Arthur replied.

"When did you become so gay?"

Arthur paused before answering.

"Alright, seriously dude, every good soap opera needs some kind of homosexual character. Just…okay?"

"Wait, soap opera?" said Spongebob.

"Well, what do you think this story is? We have a twist at the end of each chapter, people are dying, coming back from the dead, long lost relatives are being revealed, sounds like an episode of Young and the Restless to me man."

"Meh, I can't disagree with th-" SpongeBob stopped. "Wait…coming back from the dead? When did that happen?"

"Oh, damn, that isn't for another few chapters. Enough of the jibber jabber Mr. Spongeboob Boxpants, it's time to do what I came here to do."

"…and that is?" Spongebob asked.

"This."

Arthur reached into his pocket and pulled out what looked to be a .45 magnum. Spongebob's face went white.

"Arthur, don't…don't this. We can talk about this…" Spongebob begged.

"Relax Spongepants, the bullets in this gun will not be wasted on you." Arthur snapped back.

Spongebob stopped to think for a moment.

"S-Sandy?" He said shakily.

"No, not her either. Man, you have to stop trying to figure out everything and just roll with the punches."

Suddenly, Arthur pointed the gun at the window in which Spongebob has been viewing the multi- coloured fish and shot. Glass scattered over the floor as Arthur began to walk past the two friends and step through the window pane and into the other room, the pistol still extended in front of him.

"Sandy! We have to stop him!" Spongebob yelled. "Why are you just standing there?"

"Spongebob, calm down. This has to be done." Sandy answered back sternly, not a sign of emotion on her face."

"Has to be d-? He's snapped!" Spongebob frantically replied.

Sandy didn't reply.

"Don't resist!" Spongebob heard Arthur calmly say from the other room. A loud bang echoed through the room. A loud number of screams cracked through the room. With every gunshot Spongebob heard, the screams got quieter. Finally…silence.

After a moment or two, Spongebob began to hear footsteps on the other side of the opening in the wall, coming closer and closer. Then, Arthur came back into the room containing a dazzled Spongebob and a suspiciously quiet Sandy. But Arthur was not alone. In his grasp was a green fish wearing a brown button up shirt. Arthur had a gun to the fish's temple.

"Alright Spongebob! We're going to try this one more time!" Arthur screamed aggressively . His previous lisp had disappeared, and had been replaced with an angry tone. "What colour is this fish?"

Sandy turned her head to Spongebob, waiting for his answer. Spongebob didn't know what to say. The fish was green, he knew that. But was that the right answer? Sandy had seemed displeased with all his previous answers, but he knew he had to get this one right. Finally, he spoke.

"Green?" Spongebob said slowly.

Sandy bent her head and sighed. Arthur closed his eyes for a moment.

"Sorry Spongebob."

Arthur pulled the trigger. The fish's eyes opened wide, before crumpling to the floor. Blood poured from the right side of his head and onto the floor.

Arthur pulled out a white cloth and began to wipe down the barrel and handle of the gun. He then tossed it at Spongebob's feet.

"C'mon Sandy," he said, his head bowed in disappointment.

Sandy peered up at Spongebob. He could have sworn he saw her eyes began to water, before she quickly turned her head away and began to walk off with Arthur.

"Sandy…" Spongebob said quietly.

Before he knew it, the two walked out the door, softly shutting it behind them. Spongebob stood there for a while, trying to evaluate the situation. He decided to go after Sandy, I mean, he was supposed to trust her. He raced to the door and grabbed the knob. It wouldn't move. He turned it harder. No help.

"They…they locked me in here." Spongebob said to himself.

He looked around. Broken glass, a gun on the ground, a dead fish and a table.

Spongebob sat on the ground and began to cry.


	11. Chapter 11: Voice

"I hope you're happy."

Spongebob whirled around and checked behind him. Any voice was a comfort in this situation. Any one at all. However, nobody was around. This wasn't particularly surprising. After all the twists, turns, betrayals, and homoeroticism, Spongebob was mostly desensitized to disembodied mystery voices.

"Spongebob, I can't believe you're just rolling with this."

Spongebob wiped his eyes and stood up. He walked over to the door to try it again, but the mystery voice protested. "What the hell do you want from me?" he whispered. He was tired, he was upset, he was sick of everybody acting all mysterious and withholding answers.

"I want you to keep trying, Spongebob. You're the only one who can do this. Your ears, your eyes – well, they're not exactly special, but it's still up to you."

"Did I miss a chapter or something?" Spongebob muttered. "Did I just skim over the bit where somebody tells me what's going on, tells me what the point of all this is, because last I checked, I don't know anything! And yet people are throwing around information to me like there's a handy, user-created encyclopedia I can check to get up to speed on all this. Who are the Sciurideans? What's the deal with the seagulls? And why me? What's so special about me?"

There was silence. Spongebob figured that the voice had abandoned him. Another mystery organization whose expectations he had failed to live up to? Shit, that was no big deal. Just par for the course today. Hell, this one had a leg-up on the others; it didn't even make one of his best friends try to kill him, which, based on his experience thus far, Spongebob figured was one of the requirements for being considered a serious secret organization in Bikini Bottom.

"Do you really want to know?"

Spongebob took a deep breath.

"Tell me everything."

"That's pushing it. Considering that I'm almost as in the dark as you are."

Spongebob punched the wall. Why did this guy have to be so useless?

"Just tell me who's working for who. Tell me that."

The owner of the mysterious voice cleared his throat. "We can only tell for the most loyal members of the different organizations; all the others have been shifting allegiances faster than a blonde slut on a reality TV show.

"First there's George, that creepy fish who locked you in that basement a while back. He's with the Larideans, who use the seagull symbol. They say that they can see things others can't. I think they're full of shit, but whatever.

"Sandy is with the Sciurideans, and my informants tell me that she could even be the leader; we just don't know yet. They can also do something related to vision, but we don't have enough information on exactly what their capabilities are. Something about layers. Disguises, maybe."

"What about Arthur? Whose side is he on?

"Arthur is on Arthur's side. He defected from the Larideans just recently and is currently screwing over everybody he possibly can."

"But he seemed so harmless before…"

"Arthur is anything but harmless. You need to be careful with him, no matter what."

"And what about Patrick?"

"Patrick's a wild card. Everybody wants to get their hands on him, and we can't be sure why. But don't worry, kid, he's looking out for you. You're lucky to have a friend like that."

Spongebob couldn't help but chuckle. After all this time, of all his friends selling him out, now he had finally found somebody who was willing to help him, and he hadn't even seen their face.

"One more question," he said, picking up the gun and starting to walk through the threshold of broken glass, into the other side of the testing facility. "You seem to say 'we' a lot. Who exactly are _you_ working for?"

A sigh, then, "I can't tell you."

Spongebob laughed. "You've been straight with me all this time, and you can't even tell me what side you're on?"

"I'm not on any side, Spongebob!"

"Barnacles! How do you know so much, then?"

"I've been watching – "

"From where? With what organization?"

"Spongebob I – "

"Tell me! Now!"

The voice stayed silent for a while. "Spongebob, I can't belong to any of these organizations. Not the Larideans, not the Sciurideans, not the other two, either. As in physically can't."

"Why not?" Spongebob asked. He waited for the realization, the swerve before he was left in wait for even more answers to even more questions.

"Spongebob, I'm – well, I guess this applies to the 'we' I was talking about – we're already dead."


	12. Chapter 12: Halfbacks

Patrick awoke with a twinkle in his eye. He had a feeling today was going to be a great day. To start this great day, of course, he brewed himself a cup of coffee. He likes it black. Like his men. Next he cooked up some golden waffles and a batch of scrambled eggs. To top it all off, he enjoyed this delicious meal while watching The Price is Right.

"Over bid, Granny!" he shouted at the television screen, his mouth full of the godlike breakfast pastry known as Eggo's. Just then, a knock was heard on the side of the rock he called a home.

"Patrick! What are you doing still in there? It's jellyfishing time!" Of course it was his best pal Spongebob. "Today is the day we slay all jellyfish that have ever made the mistake of gracing Jellyfish Fields."

Patrick pushed up the rock and stepped outside, wiping some syrup off his chin. "Jesus Spongebob, we're just doing the old catch and release."

"I know, but I felt a sentence like that would add a nice little touch to the story," Sponge replied.

"Well," Patrick said, as he took out his jellyfishing rod, "We better get a move on!"

The two jellyfished for hours, catching all kinds of jellyfish. Big ones, little ones. That's about it.

"Well Pat, it's been a good day," said an exhausted Spongebob, "But I've got to get to the Krusty Krab. The boss wants my help with picking out a birthday gift for Pearl."

Just then, a colossal jellyfish arose from the horizon. As many years as the two had spent jellyfishing, it was unlike anything they had seen before. They jellyfish that were pink, purple, even blue, but it was hard to even place what colour this monster could be described as.

"Sponge, check out that thing! My eyes have never beheld such a sight! What colour would you even say that was?"

"It kind of looks like a sickly green colour, if I had to pick one! What would you say it is Pat?"

"Uh, I'm not too sure," Patrick replied. "Well, we better get out of here Sponge, I don't think we can catch that thing!" The two raced off back to the city.

It wasn't long before Spongebob arrived at the Krusty Krab. He went straight for Mr. Krabs office, knowing he'd be expecting him. As he walked in the door, Krabs was just finishing up a phone call.

"Hey Mr. Krabs! You ready to pick out a gift? Sixteen is a special number, we better get a special gift!"

"Ay, my boy! I'll get up the eBay right now!" Mr. Krabs replied. Yes, it appeared internet had made its way to Bikini Bottom. "Alright, m'boy, see anything she might like on this page?"

Spongebob walked around to the other side of the desk and set his eyes on the computer screen. "Er, Mr. Krabs, that screen is blank."

Mr. Krabs paused for a second. "Why so it is!" he said chuckling. "I should really get this computer checked out, it's been acting up for a while now. There was some good stuff there though, boy. Shame you couldn't see it."

"Well, call me when it's all fixed up, and I'll help you pick out something real nice, how bout' that?"

"Sounds good, Spongebob. Have a good day!" he said waving, as Spongebob exited his office. Mr. Krabs wasted no time in picking up his phone and punching in the number he had scrawled down on an old piece of paper.

"Yes? Hello, Patrick? Yeah, I tried too. No, I just don't think we can work with him. I'm sorry, but we'll have to let him go."

"Very well," Patrick replied from the other line. "Yeah, I'll call him right away. Thanks." Patrick ended the call with Krabs, and quickly dialed another number.

"Hello? Arthur? Yeah this is Patrick. Well no, he said we can't work with him, and I have to say I agree. Tomorrow we'll start. He should show up sometime in the morning. He'll probably come looking for me too, so make sure George is at my place. Yeah. Oh, and Arthur, remember to tell him Mrs. Puff died. Everything else should fall into place."


	13. Chapter 13: Contains Gay Pornography

Spongebob took a careful step through the hole in the glass and entered the room that those innocent fish had walked across just moments ago. He took a look around; to his right was a large room full of about fifty or sixty tubes that stretched from the floor to ceiling, each of them too thick to wrap his arms around. To the left was a door opening to a long hallway.

Spongebob took a few steps down the hallway, which was lined with offices, all of which were open and empty. Maybe they had been able to escape before Arthur got to them? Or maybe they were empty in the first place. If so, had they been told beforehand that the strange and vaguely effeminate fish would be going on a rampage? Sandy herself certainly seemed unsurprised when Arthur had began shooting up the base.

Spongebob looked around one office. A large cardboard box sat on the desk next to the turned-off computer. It looked a bit battered, and was covered in tape. "RANDY'S PERSONAL COMB – DO NOT TOUCH" was written on it in sharpie, with more letters backwards than not. Several photographs were pinned to a bulletin board behind the PC. They were all of fish tied to chairs with towels draped over their shoulders. Most of the fish were missing at least part of their faces.

The office next door mostly contained back issues of _Meatmen_ and _Black Inches_.

"So...what exactly do the people who work here do?" Spongebob asked.

"I don't know. Just playing, I guess," replied the mysterious mystery-ghost of mystery, who had been mostly silent since revealing his mysterious nature as a mysterious ghost. Spongebob didn't want to think too long about what he meant by "playing".

"Don't you think this whole situation is a little weird?" Spongebob asked. "Like, what do you think about that?"

"What do I think about wha – "

"Don't answer. I mean, I've got a .45 magnum pistol. What do you think about that?"

"I still don't know what you mean."

"You ever see what a .45 magnum can do a person's face? It'll destroy it. Just blow it right apart. That's what it'll do to your face. What do you think about that?"

"Spongebob, you're starting to scare me."

"You know, you must think I'm pretty sick or something, you know. You must think I'm pretty sick. Right? I'll bet you think I'm really sick, right? You think I'm sick? You don't have to answer that."

"I honestly have no ide – "

"Now, what you should see is what a .45 magnum can do to a woman's pu – "

"Spongebob! Kids' show!"

"Relax, ghosty, I'm just having a goof." Spongebob looked into the next room. It looked like the kind of room that people would hold board meetings in, but it was abandoned. A projector on the table was still playing a slideshow; the slide on the wall boldly read, "The Inevitable Alien Invasion and You – Part 4 of 6: How to ensure your current sex partner hasn't been replaced with an alien."

"In any case, do you know where the exit to this place is?" Spongebob's feet were getting tired, and he was starting to get the rubmlies in his tumblies, which was unsurprising considering he hadn't eaten or gone to the bathroom in something like three days.

The mysterious ghost pointed Spongebob in the direction of the stairs at the end of the hall. "You gotta go up three flights of stairs, then out that door. Take the first right you can, then the third left. Go up two more floors and follow that hall to the end, and the exit ought to be the last door on your right. It'll take you to a ladder that'll lead you right back out into the Treedome. I can't leave this part of the building, so you'll have to remember that all by yourself."

"Why can't you come with me?"

"Because of ghost stuff. Spongebob, if you make it out, go to the Bikini Bottom cemetery and find Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen. He'll know what to do."

"Thanks a lot," Spongebob said. "I'll be sure to tell the other ghosts 'hi' for you."

"Ghosts don't say 'hi'. Racist."

Spongebob felt a little embarrassed, and started up the stairs. He continued the rest of the way to the exit very conscious of how alone he was. He couldn't wait to get out into the sea and try to regroup with Patrick again, or maybe even Smitty. Maybe.

But when he reached the top of the ladder, Spongebob felt very strange. It was a feeling neither he nor any other underwater creature had ever felt before. As his collar began to grow sweaty, he slowly turned around. The Treedome was on fire.


	14. Chapter 14: Dig Your Grave

Spongebob paused, trying to think of a way to put out the fire. There didn't seem to be any equipment around that would successfully douse the flames, and running outside and in with a pail would just take too long, he's got more important things to do. Just then, it occurred to him that he had all the equipment he needed right there. With no time to spare, he whipped off his square pants and flopped out his sponge wiener, which is like a regular wiener, except its sponge. Muck like the pipes, it was too thick to wrap his arms around. Nonetheless, he grasped… it, and dick slapped the glass wall of the Treedome adjacent to him. The force was like that of a thousand suns, and the wall crumbled at his feet. Just as he had hoped, water flowed in at an insurmountable pace. Soon the whole Treedome was reduced to a heap of glass and other rubble. Spongebob walked away with pride, knowing he had possible just saved Sandy's life. With his penis.

His next stop was the graveyard, just as the ghost had advised. After a couple minutes passed, Spongebob realized something was terribly wrong. He had forgotten his pants. The thought of going back to the Treedome crossed his mind, but he knew that the pants had been diminished to threads by now. His new mission was to find something to cover up with, and fast; the ladies just wouldn't be able to contain themselves.

The most reasonable course of action would be to go Metal Gear Solid all the way back to the Pineapple, but even Spongebob could admit the journey was too risky. No, he had to get the clothing in a much safer way.

He soon found himself hidden behind a piece of coral, waiting for a clueless pedestrian to come roaming along. He wasn't sure how he got here, perhaps the recent goings on had made him a mad-man, or perhaps he felt using a barrel was just too cliché; but all he knew is that he had a rock in his hand, and was waiting to annihilate the first poor soul that made the mistake of going for an evening stroll.

Minutes later, he had a suit to wear, and a body to hide. Hell, he was going to the graveyard anyway. Some days are just like that, you know? Spongebob slumped the body over his shoulder and started walking.

Soon enough, he had arrived at the Bikini Bottom Cemetery. Here he started digging a fresh hole. About six feet down he stopped, figuring it was enough. He hurled the body into the hole, and filled it back in, as if nothing happened. As he departed to find the grave of Smitty, he noticed a white rectangle on the ground beside Mr. Liked-To-Wear-Suits grave. Spongebob picked it up and looked the card over. In the corner was what he assumed to be a poorly drawn whale scrawled in pen. In the middle of the card though, was a phone number. Anyhow, Spongebob stuffed the card in the suit pocked and continued on his way to the grave; he couldn't get distracted now.

Eventually, he found the grave. Spongebob assumed to talk to Smitty, he had to retrieve his body, so he started digging. A short time passed before he made contact with the hard coffin. He brushed the dirt away, and flipped open the door. To his surprise, lying motionless in the coffin was Sandy.


	15. Chapter 15: Slept around the Clock

Spongebob staggered backwards, confused and aghast at the body in the coffin. Before he could even try to make sense of what he was seeing, the smell of Sandy's decaying corpse hit him, and he fell to his knees. His back heaving, Spongebob tried to hold the vomit in. He felt weak; the peaceful, idyllic life he thought he knew was lying in shambles around him. He knew that things were changing, right from the moment he met that George character outside of Patrick's, but Sandy dead? He had never expected her of all people to end up like this.

Spongebob stood up and tried to find his footing. His head was still swimming, not only because he was underwater, but also because he was still very dizzy. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide from this ugly side of Bikini Bottom and pretend it had nothing to do with him, but as he looked at the clothes on his back, he remembered exactly to what extent he was involved in all this. By gosh by golly, he had killed a man just for those clothes. Even though the memory felt far away, like something that had happened a long time ago to somebody else, he had his own responsibilities now. It was time to start acting like an adult and get to the bottom of things, starting with Sandy's murder.

Taking a deep breath, Spongebob Squarepants did his best to regain his composure and turn into Spongebob Seriouspants. He decided to do some CSI work and get a closer look at the body. Maybe look for some kind of wound or sign of a struggle that would clue him in to how and why Sandy died. Going to the police would be useless; he himself was a murderer, after all, and he had no doubt that his interactions with the Larideans and Sciurideans had made him some kind of fugitive.

The stench was almost unbearable, but Spongebob got down on his knees and started investigating. To his surprise, Sandy was already pretty far into the decomposition process. While he didn't know much about what happens to a dead body, Spongebob figured based on the fact that her flesh was nearly completely eaten away that Sandy had been dead for at least a few days. Spongebob wondered if it was possible that the relative humidity had hastened the process, and was about to curse himself for not checking the weather forecast that morning, before he realized that he lived underwater. He was getting pretty darn sick of forgetting that.

Spongebob started poking around the corpse, looking for a bullet or knife wound. As bad as the sight and smell of Dead Sandy were, feeling the long-dead meat still clinging to her bones was something else entirely. Spongebob's arms shook uncontrollably, and he let Dead Sandy drop to the ground. He dusted the sand off his new slacks as he stood, looking around for Nosey Nellys who might be approaching. Confident that he was alone, Spongebob took a step towards another nearby grave.

"Hello? I was wondering if any ghosts out there knew who brought this squirrel here."

No ghosts answered.

"I think it happened kind of recently. Whoever did it must have either killed her here or brought her body, and then buried her."

Somehow, even less ghosts than before answered.

"I mean, I can't imagine it was easy to miss. She was buried right here in Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen's gra–"

Spongebob whirled around as the words were leaving his mouth. If Sandy was in that coffin, then where in the name of Waldo was Smitty? The ghost under the Treedome made it sound pretty important that Spongebob talk to him, but without a body, Spongebob wasn't sure if that was possible. If Smitty wasn't at the graveyard, then Spongebob had to find out where he was and get to him, and fast.

"Alright, guys, I know you're not feeling talkative tonight, but this is kind of important," Spongebob called out. "I'm looking for Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen. I know he was Number One around these parts, so his disappearance was probably pretty important." A chill ran down Spongebob's spine, making his whole body shake. A low, ominous wind made the kelp rustle with a vaguely threatening sound. "Well?" Spongebob demanded. "Where is he?"

Every one of Spongebob's muscles seized up as a hollow, wispy voice whispered in his ear, "Long gone." For the next few minutes, Spongebob screamed at the air around him to give him more clues, but there was no response from any voice. Feeling dejected, Spongebob decided it was time to move on with his search.

As he left the cemetery, Spongebob racked his brain for any place Smitty's body might have been taken, or anybody who might know or be able to help. He wondered if the Flying Dutchman would know about Smitty's whereabouts, but he also wondered if assuming that would make him come across as racist. Ghosts seemed so sensitive these days. He considered going back to the Krusty Krab, in the hopes that Mr. Krabs would be on his side, but he knew the risk he would be taking if he did that. There was also the possibility that Patrick was sending another agent to help him, but every minute spent waiting was one that Arthur could make his next move in.

Remembering his encounter with Larry, Spongebob was also reminded of what Larry had told him. Rock Bottom...even though Larry had never told him the reason, Spongebob felt sure that that would be a safe place, not to mention a good spot to start a search for a grave-robbing ghost-napper. Spongebob decided to take a little shortcut, and hopped off the road and began climbing a tall hill off to his left.

When he reached the crest of the hill, however, Spongebob regretted his decision. At least two dozen police cruisers were parked at the foot of the hill, with countless cops sitting outside them, jovially sharing slices of pizza. Spongebob caught his breath and slowly turned around, hoping that the police didn't see him, until he tripped over his shoelace. He had forgotten to tie it when he stole the suit, and was now tumbling down the hill, making more noise than he probably should have been.

As he picked himself up, the officers shone their flashlights on him all at once. "Squarepants?" one asked with shock in his voice. "Spongebob Squarepants? Is that really you? Boy, do we have come questions to ask."

Spongebob decided that playing it cool would be the best course of action here. "BACK THE HELL OFF, PIGS! I KNOW MY RIGHTS!" Spongebob was never one to toot his own horn, but he couldn't help but congratulate himself on how smooth he was being.

Another officer stepped forward. "Jesus, Spongebob, we were just here having a snack break from our search for the Conch Street Kelp Thief, and then you show up? I mean, we called off the search party a long time ago."

"Wait, search party? What are you talking about?"

The policeman shook his head. "I can't believe it, Spongebob. How could you not know? You were reported missing over six months ago."


	16. Chapter 16: Does Not Advance the Story

"Alright son, I want you to start from the beginning."

Spongebob looked around. A video camera. A desk. A police man that oddly resembled John Waters. He was in the Bikini Bottom police station; the same one he had went to not one day ago to report Mrs. Puff's "death." At least it felt like a day. Since the time he first met Arthur outside the boating school, he couldn't remember ever sleeping. When waking and falling asleep is how you start and end every day, how are you to tell one day from the next without it? Thinking back, there had been numerous times when he wasn't quite aware of how long he had been doing something, but six months? You know how much can happen in six months? Like, half of how much can happen in a year. There had to be some sort of misunderstanding.

"Spongebob?" said the John Waters-esque police man. "You sure have been quiet a long time."

How long, Spongebob thought. Could anything be taken figuratively anymore?

"Please Spongebob," John pleaded. "We need you. We haven't had a lead for months, and finding you is a pretty good one. Just… tell us anything."

There was a short lull, before Spongebob finally spoke up. "May I use your washroom?"

"You know, I really would prefer if you stayed and talked for a bit, Sponge," John reasserted.

"I'm sure everyone would. Six months… I'll be right back, I swear. And then I'll tell you everything. You'll tell me everything. We'll all talk."

"Fine, but please Spongebob, don't do anything silly. We need you."

Spongebob rose from his chair, as John directed him towards the bathroom, leaving the interrogation room himself. He turned right, opposite the direction of Spongebob, and met another police man (fish?) at the water cooler.

"That didn't take long," said the officer.

"Yeah, he decided he needed to use the washroom," replied John. "You know, I thought he would've came in here blabbering on about everything that's happened, but he's acting pretty solemn. Something's up Carl, I tell ya'. I mean, the guy seems oblivious to the fact that he even sparked a police search, but I'm not getting anything out of him. It sounds to me like he's got a much different timeline of events in his head than we do, but he sure doesn't seem eager to share it."

"Something's up man, I'll tell you that," Carl said back. "The last time the kid was spotted was crawling out that window four months ago. Jesus, what could he have been up to this whole time? Talk about a plot hole. By the way, how awesome are water coolers? I mean, right?!"

After ogling the cooler for a while, John realized Spongebob had been in there for a suspiciously long time. He hastily walked towards the bathroom door, and knocked impatiently.

"Spongebob, c'mon? You're not knocking one out are you? It's been six months, everyone wants some answers, let's go!"

No reply. He had a feeling this would happen. John grabbed the master keys out of his pocket and fumbled around a second before finding the right one. He swung open the door, and stepped back, shocked by the sight inside, or lack of. Spongebob was unsurprisingly gone. The window was left ajar, and the mirror was smashed.

"Damn it Carl, who thought it was a good idea to put a easily accessible window in a police station bathroom!" John shouted.

As Carl raced in to take a look, John noticed a small piece of paper in the sink. On it he found a phone number, and a poorly drawn picture of a whale. He couldn't help but think Spongebob had purposely left the card, as even he wasn't that stubborn. Before embarking on another search, John gave the number a call. A raspy voice answered.

"Hello, this is Dominic Roughneck, Bikini Bottom Police Department; may I ask who's speaking?"

"Dominic? It's George," the voice replied.

"Pardon me sir, but I'm not sure I know a George, could you be a little more specific."

"I didn't say you knew me. I sure as hell know you though. I wish you weren't so special." And with that, a click.

"Carl, something weird is going on man." Dominic turned around, realizing he was talking to no one. As he stepped out into the parking lot, he noticed Carl was waiting in the passenger seat of the squad car. Carl began to wave him over, and before Dom had a chance to take another step forward, the car exploded.


	17. Chapter 17: The Fanfic is now a Cop Show

Dominic paced up and down the sitting room at the ER of Bikini Bottom Hospital. For the past twenty minutes, he had been regularly grabbing the nurse at the reception desk and angrily demanding to be let in to see Carl in his best hard-boiled police detective voice. "Dammit, Margaret, I don't _care_ about policy, I need to see my partner!"

"My name is Anthony, and if you don't stop making a scene I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the nurse said, recoiling from Dom's fiery fists of fury, which were both ready for action.

Margaret had been especially uncooperative, almost suspiciously so. Dominic's detective instincts had been on edge since he had been called in to interview none other than Spongebob Squarepants; the Squarepants case had been colder than a dead mongoose corpse in the Himalayas, the most traceless disappearance he had seen in all his days with the force.

Dom went outside for some fresh air. He decided to give the forensics lab a call to see if they knew anything about the bomb planted in his squad car. "Andy, do you have any leads on the attack on Carl and me?" he gruffly asked in a gruff manner.

"Um, it's Terry, and no, whoever left this bomb was very thorough. It's very possible that we're dealing with a professional."

"Damn. Not even a single fingerprint?"

"Well, to be fair, we live underwater. Most sea creatures don't have fingers at all. In fact, none do. In any case, I'd be careful from now on. This was no accident; somebody out there wants you and Carl dead, and whoever he is, he's very good.

"And by the way, there was something we were meaning to ask you. Do you remember the Cheeks case?"

"How could I forget?" Four months ago, Sandy Cheeks had disappeared, and her Treedome was left completely in ruins. The dome itself had been smashed open, and its contents destroyed. Dominic had done some of the investigations for the Cheeks case, but to this day there were no suspects at all, and Cheeks' body was never recovered.

"Well, you're not going to believe this," Andy continued, "but the night Squarepants got brought in, they sent another investigator to do a once-over of the surrounding area. Looks like he was spending some time around Bikini Bottom Cemetery."

"The cemetery? What on earth could he have been doing there?"

"Well, we have an idea: digging up Smitty Werbenjagermanjensen's grave."

"Tommy Anderflabbermcheinster? But why?"

"Well, it might have something to do with what we found in the coffin: Sandy flippy-flopping Cheeks."

"Noooooooo waaaaaaaay."

"Oh, way. They brought her into the lab just now, and we're having a look."

Dom's detective senses began to tingle vigourously. "You know, Andy, I must say, it seems awfully coincidental that both Cheeks and Squarepants disappeared and reappeared at almost the exact same time."

Andy gasped. "You don't mean to imply – "

"Oh, but I do. Not only that, but shortly before Squarepants went on his little six-month vacation, Poppy Puff seemed to have vanished off the face of the earth, and Larry Lobster was found in an alley with a bullet in his chest and smelling faintly of cabbage."

"My god. You think Squarepants was behind all that?"

"Well, I have a hunch, but I really shouldn't jump to conclusions. After all, there's nothing explicit to implicate him in these disappearances."

"Actually, now that you mention it – stay on the line, will you? I need to find some papers...there it is!" Andy's voice was shaking.

"What is it?" Dom asked, itching for his next lead.

"Well, it's the glass samples from the Treedome. I didn't think anything of it at the time, but there was something about the shards that seemed...off. But since we're talking about a connection with Squarepants' disappearance..."

"Out with it, Andy! I need to know!"

"Well, based on the shape of the shards, and the way they fractured, as well as the angle of the sun and speed of the wind at the precise instant the dome broke, I'm approximately eighty-three per cent certain: Sandy Cheeks' Treedome was broken by..._a sponge wiener_."

Dom hung up immediately. He had to find Spongebob Squarepants, and he had to find him before anyone else got hurt. He ran back into the hospital, punched Margaret in the face, and then ran back out to the parking lot and hopped into his vehicle.

To Dom's dismay, though, his car wouldn't start. That was a huge pain; he had been excited to turn on the sirens and drive over the speed limit. Dominic got out of the car and decided to give the ol' bonnet a pop, as they say in France.

Dominic was stunned. Somebody had completely removed the engine from his car. Even more confusing was what had been left in its place: a note, with a seagull design drawn in diamonds in the upper-left corner. "_IF YOU CAN READ THIS,_" it said, "_HE IS ALREADY ON HIS WAY_."


	18. Chapter 18: The Guy Who Smells the Mail

Dominic sat in his police man office at his police man desk sipping from his police man mug. His face, illuminated by the faint glow of his handy dandy television that sat at the corner of his desk, was beaten and bruised. He set down the mug and began cycling through his answering machine. He had listened to the message numerous times before, but maybe if he listened to it just one more time, it would finally make sense. Before he could reach it however, there was a knock at the door.

"Alex?" Dom said surprisingly. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, Mr. Roughneck, you just called me not five minutes ago, remember? Told me to come on over to your office." Alex spoke nasally and nervously. His glasses, which tilted slightly to one side, were cracked at the left lens. He had been working the force for a few months now, but the rest of the crew knew he was just there to push around and get petty jobs done. For example, if you wanted some donuts from the local donut shop, Alex was your man. Of course after he fetched the donuts, you would hurl them at his head and tell him they weren't fluffy enough or something. Yeah, every establishment needs an Alex.

"I'm sure I would remember doing such a thing," Dom responded. "But come to think of it, I am drinking absinthe, and am drunk off my ass. None the less, what would I want you at my office for?"

"You said you had something to show me."

"Well, I guess I got something to show you then. C'mon Alex, I got something to show you." He gestured for Alex to follow as he bumbled out of the room. As they began on the stairs heading to the basement of the police headquarters, Dom started flipping through his key chain full of keys.

"You know, Marvin," Dom started. "I sure am taking a risk bringing you down here. With Carl being in the hospital and all, I don't really have anyone to confide in."

"Actually, it's Alex," he refuted.

"Right, sorry, you just remind me of that guy Marvin. You know, the one that smells the mail."

"O," Alex replied, rather oddly.

"Anyways kid, I'm just saying, I hope I can trust you on this one. I think this is going to be a big deal, because you kind of remind me of one of those characters that either dies nihilistically, or ends up saving the day. Then again, I don't even know nihilistically means, I'm still pretty hammed."

The two stopped at a steel door two cold flights down. Alex watched open mouthed as Dom put the key in the hole and attempted to turn. That wasn't the right key. He tried again. Nope. After a few more tries, he finally found the key that worked. Before opening the door though, the rather intoxicated turned to Alex with a very sober look, and spoke slowly and carefully.

"Alex, two days ago I found a note in the bonnet of my car. It said a man was on his way. That very same day, he arrived. I don't want to say too much, but one thing lead to another and…" his voice trailed off, as he focused on opening the door. There, tied to a wooden stool in the middle of the poorly lit room, a very bloody, semi-conscious Patrick Star.


	19. Chapter 19: Flabhacks, or Alex's Glasses

Dominic Roughneck got out of bed one Tuesday morning and rode his bicycle to work, as he did every Tuesday and also most other days. When he got to the station, he sat down at his desk and went through his answering machine. There was nothing pressing, so he poured himself a stiff drink and started watching videos of cats doing people things on the internet.

"Um, excuse me, Detective Roughneck?" came a voice from his door.

"Ah, Constable Pieterman, what can I help you with?"

"Well for starters, you could stop drinking on the job. It doesn't make you look as cool as you think it does."

"Fuck you, I'm definitely the Don Draper of this office. What else did you want?"

Constable Pieterman moved slightly to one side, revealing a diminutive fish with a combover and glasses. "This is Alex. He's fresh out of the academy, and I was wondering if you could show him the ropes around here."

Dom gave Alex a cold, steely stare through narrowed eyes. "Alright, I'll show him around, leave us alone for a bit." Pieterman sighed, knowing it was probably not a good idea to leave the young, impressionable Alex alone with such a loose cannon, but obliged. For some reason, higher-ups in fictional police stations always bend to the will of the cop who doesn't play by the rules.

Alex stepped up to Dom's desk. "I really look forward to working with you, Mr. Roughneck, I really he I – " Dominic punched Alex on the left side of the face. "Owie zowie! What was that for?"

"That's _Detective_ Roughneck to you, you smarmy little shit!"

Alex rubbed his sore face. "Um, yes, Detective Roughneck, I'll be sure to – " Dom punched him again.

"It's Mr. Draper from now on!"

"Um, yes, Mr. Draper." But Alex only got another punch.

"'Mr. Draper' just sounds stupid coming from you. It's Detective Roughneck again."

Alex's face was getting really sore. His glasses had been knocked permanently off-centre and the left lens was cracked from the wrath of Dominic Roughneck's fiery fists of fury. "Look, Detective Roughneck, if there's anything I can do for you, I'll do it, just please don't punch me again."

Dom gave Alex a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Atta boy, Lenny, that's exactly the can-do spirit we need more of in the force! How about you run down to the coffee house and pick daddy up a cappuccino?"

Alex's face brightened. "Will do, Detective Roughneck! At your service!" As Alex excitedly shuffled out of the office, Dominic sat down, saddened that he would no doubt be forced to take a sip of the cappuccino, spit it out onto Alex's face, and then beat the shit out of him with the mini-bar for getting a coffee that was too hot.

As Dom started to get his lucky marker out to do some paperwork, there was a ring at the phone. "Bikini Bottom police department, Detective Roughneck speaking. What seems to be the problem."

"You're my problem, Roughneck! Where do you get off?"

Dom was confused. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Who exactly is calling?"

"You know damn well who's calling. It's me, Arthur Bottomfeeder."

"Francis Haberdasher? I don't believe we're acquainted. Are you sure I know you?"

Heavy breathing came from the other end of the line. "You may not know me, but I sure as hell know you. And to be honest, it's starting to piss me off that you're so damn special."

After that, the line went dead. While the nature of the call confused Dominic to no end, he would soon be called upon to investigate the Squarepants and Cheeks cases, which would take up most of his time and deductive abilities. Before long, he had put his brief conversation with Arthur Bottomfeeder completely out of mind...

A few months later, Alex and Dom were once again in Roughneck's office, this time stewing over what they were going to do about Patrick Star. Unable to cope with the stress, Alex had gotten completely shitfaced on Dom's secret whiskey stash. Dom, on the other hand, was still listening to his answering machine. One message in particular was bothering him, and he knew he had to come up with a plan before it was too late.

"Hello, this is the office of Detective Roughneck? Detective Dominic Roughneck? I have a message for you. It's Arthur Bottomfeeder. I think we've spoken before, though I wouldn't say we're necessarily 'acquainted'. That said, I have reason to believe that you have something of mine, and I would very much like it back. Mr. Roughneck, I expect to see you at the bus station in Rock Bottom this coming Saturday. And you'd better be there with Star. Bring him back to me, Mr. Roughneck, and I'll tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Spongebob Squarepants."


	20. Chapter 20: Quest Fulfilled

It was a dark and stormy night, and Dominic Roughneck sat on the cold bench outside the Rock Bottom bus station. One would expect him to be thinking about the very encounter he was there for, but he couldn't get the Rock Bottom killings out of his mind. Who could blame him; it was that very night that left his own father dead, and Dom swore to himself that one day he would join the force and catch the man who did it. He had visited Rock Bottom many times since, trying to find something that would bring him closer to the reason he went to work each day. As much as he wanted to get up and consult the indigenous people of Rock Bottom one more time, Arthur Bottomfeeder, as little as he knew about him, seemed like the kind of guy that had an answer for everything. Knowing Arthur could more than likely provide him with more information than any of the Rock Bottom inhabitants kept him sitting on the bench.

"Detective Roughneck?" a voice asked from the shadows. "Glad you decided to show up."

Slowly from out of the adumbration stepped a pale green man who Dominic could have sworn wasn't there a second ago.

"Arthur Bottomfeeder," Arthur announced with an outstretched hand, which Dom ignored.

"I could have guessed," Dom replied sharply. "Now start talking."

"Did you bring Patrick Star?"

"Is that his name?" Dom answered, taking out a notebook and a pen. "I've been trying to figure that out. Wait a second… how do you know his name? Are you the son of a bitch that left that message in the foot locker of my car?"

"No sir, I'm not. But I can tell you who left it as long as you return him to me."

Dom hesitated for a second, before complying. "Fine, fine, he's in here."\

Arthur began to follow Dom into the advanced darkness of the bus station. He watched as Dom disappeared behind a counter momentarily, before dragging out a large burlap sack.

"Is he awake?" asked Arthur.

"Nah, I don't think so," Dom replied, giving the motionless bag a soft kick.

"Fantastic," Arthur murmured as he bent down to grab the neck of the bag.

"Not so fast," said Dom, slapping his hand away. "You promised me answers."

"Well, I just figured a guy like you would want to do questioning in an interrogation room or something."

"There's really no time for that, although that would be classy as shit. Now tell me what I need to know and you can take the boy."

"Alright, alright, what do you want to know?"

"Start with Spongebob Squarepants," Dom demanded. "Everyone back at the office has been on my ass about how I let him get away, and the sooner I can get him back the sooner the guys will like me again." Unbeknownst to Arthur, Dominic was furtively positioning his hand on the base of his taser gun. Now that he thought about, he really did want to go into an interrogation room, and none the less, he wasn't going to let some guy take his suspect. But before he could remove the gun from its holster, he was stopped by Arthur's response.

"Well for starters, he's dead."


	21. Chapter 21: Showdown

"Dead? What do you mean dead?" Just a week ago, Spongebob Squarepants was alive and well, evading police capture and killing people and everything. A single tear fell out of Dom's eye. _Shine on, you crazy diamond_, he thought.

"I mean our friend Mr. Squarepants is no longer with us, you boob," Arthur Bottomfeeder said with a sneer. "He was intercepted at the police station by a certain organization. They are called the Cetaceans, and there is no doubt in my mind they finally finished him off. I believe they left their card? The one with the whale?"

Dom narrowed his eyes, remembering the strange whale-card in the station bathroom. "I called the number. Somebody named George answered it, said he knew me. Why? Who is he?"

"I haven't the foggiest. The message on a Cetacean business card varies depending on who looks at it; sometimes it's a note, sometimes a phone number. On the especially weak-willed, it could perform a psychic attack. But it always serves a greater purpose." Arthur smiled knowingly. "It looks like it's written in the stars for you and this George person to meet."

Dom wasn't pleased with Arthur's tendency to dance around questions. "So who are the Cetaceans?"

"Largely unimportant. Now if you're through wasting my time by asking about things you'll never understand, I'll take the starfish and be on my way."

With the force of a thousand suns, Dom leaped forward and seized Arthur by the arm. He drew his taser and pressed it against Arthur's abdomen. "Alright, I know you think you're real clever, but if you don't start cooperating, then you're gonna be getting ten thousand volts of my foot up your ass."

Despite the imminent threat of a tasing, Bottomfeeder seemed largely unphased. "If you have any more questions, ask away."

"Ha! Boy, have I ever got questions. I've got burning questions. Like, 'Why couldn't we find any trace of Squarepants for four months?' Or, 'Who's been leaving all these ridiculous business cards around?' Or, 'Why did Walt's body appear all over the island after he was captured?' But you want to know the one thing that's been on my mind more than anything else?"

Bottomfeeder responded with laughter. "And what, pray tell, would that be?"

"When I talked to that George fellow, he told me something. Something you told me yourself a few months back. He said I was special. What does that mean?"

Arthur went silent, and effortlessly pulled himself out of Dom's grasp. He pulled a chair from the bus station counter and took a seat. "Let me start from the beginning," he said.

"I used to be affiliated with a certain organization. We were called the Larideans, and we worked in parallel with and, at times, in opposition to three other groups, among them the Cetaceans. Our job was to find people who were special, who could see things others couldn't. Among these special people were our friend in the bag, Patrick Star, and you, Dominic Roughneck."

"And Squarepants?"

Arthur shook his head. "Spongebob was, unfortunately for him, not special. But in his unremarkability, he was actually quite remarkable; when we submitted him for testing, to see if he had the special skills required of a Laridean, we discovered that he showed absolutely zero inclination towards our abilities."

"Is that unusual?"

"Not just unusual," Arthur said, "it is almost completely unprecedented. In the history of our organization – and it is a long history indeed – there have been only a handful of cases in which a subject has been unresponsive to all tests. And, in Spongebob's particular case, there has been only one precedent."

Dom sat down across from Arthur. "What do you mean by 'particular case'? What is so special about that stupid sponge?"

Clearing his throat, Arthur continued. "There are several tests the Larideans administer. Some subjects prove to be more responsive to some tests than others. Patrick Star believed that Spongebob would respond to only one, what is called the 'Last-Resort Test'. And if somebody responds to only the Last-Resort Test? Well then, considering the precedent case, the Larideans would have no choice but to kill him."

"My god. What is this 'precedent case'?"

"The story of the test subject who only responded to the Last-Resort Test, or 'Subject Zero' as we call him, because it sounds cool, is not only very long, but also shrouded in mystery. No one is really sure of the facts, and what is known is kept very secret."

Dom was so amped at how much information he was ringing out of this perp. He wished so bad that he had successfully tased him and had been able to bring Bottomfeeder into the interrogation room. "So, what does all this have to do with me? Is it just because I was assigned to Squarepants's case?"

"No no no, you silly goose. I already told you, you're special. The Larideans have been watching you for quite some time, so it's only natural you would get wrapped up in all this. There have been some major changes as of late; one Ms. Poppy Puff was caught withholding crucial information concerning Patrick Star from the higher-ups, for instance. I myself have also defected from the Larideans, for personal reasons. And as for you? You, along with Patrick Star, are among the top candidates for the next leader of the Larideans. Like I said. Special."

"So, all this is because of your ridiculous little secret clubhouse that likes to pretend they can see the invisible? Honestly, I haven't heard of such a cooky cult since the Rock Bottom Glove Worshippers. So those Larideans sent Patrick Star to take me in for some of their tests?"

Arthur nodded. "As far as I can tell, that is correct. Patrick Star and I once worked very closely together, though he has been increasingly loyal to the Larideans recently. He told me it was the only way to protect Spongebob."

"And you told me he was coming, so you could get him back onto your side?" It was all coming together. Dom got all ready to say "Book'em, Carl" when he remembered that Carl was still in the hospital.

"Unfortunately, that is not the case. While I did take this opportunity to capitalize on the situation and get Star back in my custody, I was not the one who warned you of his coming."

Dom stood up and adopted a tasing stance. "Well if you didn't, who did?"

"That," said a voice from the door, "would have been me."

A hulking fish was entering the bus station. He had a kelp bar in one hand and a gun in the other. "My name is George Minkus," he said, "and I'm here to kill you sons of bitches."


	22. Chapter 22: Chapter 23

|Spongebob Squarepants trudged through one of the numerous back allies found in Bikini Bottom. The ground crackling under his bare, blistered feet, he tried to keep moving. As he repositioned the gun in his waistband, he was sure he heard the subtle sound of whispered voices behind him. It must have been someone trying to sell him something.

He walked in the air, between the rain, through himself and back again; where? He didn't know. What he did know was anyone could be anywhere, just waiting for him to let his guard down. Spongebob knew the sun would be up in a few hours, and he couldn't afford to stick out from the rest of Bikini Bottom's populous. It was pretty hard not to, however, with the blood on his pants and the cuts on his face. The deluge did a pretty good job of cleaning the blood from his sponge-like face, but the wounds remained, and his pants were stained by now. He decided to go somewhere and clean himself up.

Approximately one hour and four minutes later, he found himself at the front door of his home. The trek had taken twice the time it should have, what with the alternate route he had to take. He sorely opened the door and flicked on the light. He was surprised at the lack of surprise the sight gave him. Everything looked exactly how he had left it. It was like the police hadn't even checked his humble abode while on their manhunt. Finally, it hit him. Who had been feeding Gary?

Spongebob stumbled up the stairs, calling out the snail's name. No response. He checked behind his bed, in front of his bed, on his bed, but to no avail. After searching for what felt like too long, he found his friend in the last place he checked, because after that he stopped looking. There, floating in the abundantly filled bathtub was Gary. Spongebob frantically pulled his lifeless body out of the water, but he knew it was too late. By the look of Gary's pruned body, the snail had been in that water for at least a day. As Spongebob held the deceased mollusk tightly against his chest, he swore he would the perpetrator and paint the walls with him. It was one thing for Spongebob to kill George and Bottomfeeder, but everyone knows you don't kill off the pet.

Ultimately, Spongebob stood up and headed to the backyard to dig yet another grave; this time for a beloved homie. His tears were hard to distinguish from the raindrops that were hitting his face, but I'm telling you, they were there. About six feet down he stopped, figuring it was enough. Spongebob bent down and picked up Gary's lifeless body. He quietly quoted that one scene from Dead Poets Society and let Gary go. He landed with a hard _thok._ Hard _thok? _Spongebob was pretty sure he should have landed with a soft _fwomp. _He slowly climbed down into the hole, also landing with a _thok. _He grabbed the shovel and dug an inch or so of dirt away. Strangely, he found a large piece of wood. He carefully put Gary back up on the surface, and swiped more of the grime away. Once the whole slab was revealed, Spongebob noticed an inscription near the end of the wood. _R.I.P. _Intrigued, but obviously stunned, he felt around a little while longer, and soon found a grabbable piece. He heaved it towards himself, and looked down into the container. Lying on the base of the coffin was the skeleton of a fish; a fish wearing an authentic #1 soda drink hat.

…

Patrick Star sat on the Bikini Bottom bus, watching as it rumbled out of Rock Bottom. Wiping the sweat from his brow, noticed the driver was trying to speak with him. Patrick didn't reply. He was too focused. He couldn't get distracted; not now. As the bus approached the confines of Bikini Bottom, he only had one thing on his mind. Kill Spongebob Squarepants.


	23. Chapter 23: Chapter 22

Dominic Roughneck struggled against the ropes that bound his hands and feet. He was lying on the cold hard ground of the bus station, having been tossed behind the counter by George. He landed face-down, and had tried to stand up without using his hands, but he hadn't worked out his core in like forever and wasn't up for the challenge. The burlap sack containing Patrick Star was the only thing in his view, and it was beginning to move slightly.

"Well, Arthur, looks like your schemes have come to an end." Dom wished he could see what was going on the other side of the counter. He twisted his body around and around, trying to get himself onto his knees, but to no avail.

Bottomfeeder screamed back, "You don't know what you're getting into, McGregor. Subject Zero has returned – he's here in Bikini Bottom right now! It's over for you, McGregor. You hear me? Over!"

"Ha! As if I'd believe any of that. We Larideans are perfectly aware that Spongebob Squarepants is in the hands of the Cetaceans, and you know as well as I do how brutal they can be. He's dead by now, no question."

Patrick started groaning, and the movements of the bag became more erratic. Dom looked up at the counter and saw there was a set of keys hanging over the edge, just barely balancing on the precipice.

"The time of the Larideans is past, McGregor! And even if your people do survive the storm that's still to come, do you really think you'll still have a place with them? After the way you told Roughneck that Star was on his way?"

"You poor fool. It wasn't the Larideans who sent Star, he did that on his own. We've all had quite enough of his acting in his own interests, and the council decided it would be for the best if both he and that Roughneck fellow were taken out of the picture. This was my plan to both of them together in one place. I'll deal with them shortly – once I'm finished with you."

Dom figured if he could roll himself into the counter with enough force, he could knock the keys off, catch them, and use them to saw his way out of the rope. It was a long shot, but it was also the only chance he had to get out of here. He struck the counter with his body, and the keys wobbled but didn't fall down. He went in for another try.

"You violated the peace treaty when you burnt down the Treedome, you idiot! The Sciurideans will be after you as well, and if war does break out, you'd better believe the Cetaceans will be against you, too." Arthur's voice was haggard, and he seemed to be running out of breath.

George, on the other hand, seemed perfectly calm. "It was worth it to flush out the sponge. Now that Subject Zero's out of the way, we have nothing else to worry about. The Sciurideans and Cetaceans are nothing before us now. You were right, Arthur, there is a storm coming, but when it clears, it will be the Larideans who reign supreme. Now, what's that bumping from behind the counter? Roughneck, you'd better not be – "

At that moment, the door-opener bell of the bus station door rang. Arthur gasped. "You? What are you doing – " But there was a sound of thunder (that means a gunshot), and Bottomfeeder was silenced. Another gunshot, and George's screams filled the room.

Silence followed. Dom waited until he was sure he was alone, then finished getting the keys off the counter and began sawing. When he got his hands free, he moved down to his feet, though he remained silent for a while, just in case the mysterious assailant was still nearby. Feeling the coast was clear, he snuck out from behind the counter.

Sure enough, both George Minkus and Arthur Bottomfeeder were on the ground, dead. Dom figured he owed them as much as to close their eyes, so he knelt down. As he approached George's face, however, he felt something poke into his side, and he suddenly got ten thousand volts of foot up his ass. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was Patrick Star standing over him, holding his taser.


	24. Chapter 24: Idiot Box

_It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend._

William Blake

A car sounded its horn. Dom spun around. He stepped forward and fell through the pavement. He was swimming. **"**It Wasn't Me," the first single from Jamaican-American reggae artist Shaggy's multi-platinum studio album _Hot Shot_ (2000), played above the surface. Dom found it hard to breathe. He sat on stage in front of thousands of crustacean. They didn't like him. He stood up and was in a haunted house. A car sounded its horn. Dom couldn't move.

His eyes fluttered open, or at least he thought they did. It was dark. He shut his eyes. Opened them again. He saw nothing. His knees pressed against his chest. He attempted to stretch. Dom couldn't move. His body ached. His neck stung. He wiggled his fingers. They drummed against something - something that didn't belong to him. He focused and ran his fingers along the newly found surface. They found a corner and continued in a perpendicular direction. He followed the surface and came in contact with his left knee. His right knee was directly below it. He realized now he was laying on his side. Fetal position. His fingers continued on their expedition. They slid upwards and once again were forced to change direction. Fuck it, he was inside a wooden box is what I'm getting at. After coming to this conclusion, Dom began pounding on the walls that were confining him. To his surprise, something out there pounded back. It was as if someone was rapping. As if someone was gently rapping, rapping at his chamber door. Dom called out.

"Hey!" He was trying to stay calm, but the thought of running out of oxygen gave him no choice but to raise his voice. "HEY!"

He heard what sounded like the jingling of keys, and suddenly, the roof opened up. Fluorescent light poured into his eyes and temporarily blinded him. With the help of the Key Jingler, Dom managed to climb out of the box, his eyes attempting to adjust to the change of scenery. His savior grabbed him by the shoulder and sat him down on a large, leather seat directly in front of the box. Dom gave his eyes a good ol' rub and turned to greet the man who rescued him. He was surprised to see a face that he recognized. Dom was the first one to speak, immediately questioning the situation.

"Rodrick Zaldivar? You better tell me what the ham and eggs is going on here!"

His hero sighed. "It's Patrick Star, you fucking dunce. Now, ease up on the hostility, alright? You should be grateful I even let you out of that trunk. I was planning on keeping you until we got downtown, but you woke up earlier than I had anticipated, and I couldn't risk the bus driver hearing the racket you were making. Luckily, he's had music playing over the speakers for the past hour, so I don't think he heard your little outburst."

Patrick paused, giving Dom a chance to hear the reggae fusion track which crackled from the bus's decrepit speaker system.

"He's had this song on repeat for about half the trip," Patrick continued. "It's driving me nuts, but we just entered Bikini Bottom, so it shouldn't be too much longer. Anyways. Here's the plan Dominic…"

Dom, who had at this point collected his thoughts and remembered the reality of his situation, decided to interrupt. "Wait just one second, buddy boy. What do you mean 'here's the plan'? You expect me to help you? I know you just let me out of that trunk, but if you're forgetting, it was a trunk that _you _put me into! And don't think I forgot about you tazing me back at the bus station, alright? What the hell am I doing with you on this bus anyways?!"

"Dominic," Patrick replied, and directed Dom's attention to the gun in his hand. "Keep your voice down. I don't want to have to use this. Not yet. The bus driver thinks I came on alone, and if you take the time to look around, you'll notice there's no one else on this bus. So what do you think is going to happen if he sees you back here? The little bastard was suspicious enough when I came in here lugging that trunk behind me. I told him I was a travelling salesman, and it was full of shower curtain rings, but goddamn it if he wasn't suspicious. So slouch down a bit, be quiet, and let me tell you the plan."

"Fine," Dom reluctantly agreed, and lowered himself in his seat. "But first, I've got a few questions for you, Star. You know, that Arthur chap made you out to be a guy who knows things. Someone special. Well, I'm guessing I won't get a better chance than this to talk to you one on one. So here's the deal: you tell me what I want to know, and I do whatever it is you need me to do. Sound fair?"

"We've got a deal, Dominic. But don't take up too much of our time asking questions, alright? This bus ride only has about fifteen minutes left before it reaches its destination, and the plan _must_ go into action before that happens. Understood?"

"Okay, I'll get right to it then. First question: who's really dead and who's actually alive? So far all these deaths and fake deaths are getting confusing. Jesus, just a couple of hours ago, Arthur told me _Spongebob_ had croaked, but then he followed that up with '_I mean he's no longer with us.'_ What an ambiguous little shit that guy is."

"You mean _was," _Patrick reminded him. "Arthur was killed about two hours ago, along with George Minkus. I was a little sad to see Arthur go, as smarmy as he was, but Minkus, I really have no remorse for. Back in the early '80s, that guy went berserk. Killed almost everyone living in Rock Bottom."

Dom was taken aback. He was well aware of the Rock Bottom Killings, but had no idea George Minkus was the culprit. It satisfied him to hear Minkus had been killed, but as mentioned back in chapter twenty, the whole reason Dom had joined the force was to find the man who killed his Rock Bottom dwelling father and _personally_ end his life. Dominic decided then and there the only thing left to do on the force would be to get to the bottom of the Spongebob Squarepants case. Find out exactly what's been going on in Bikini Bottom for the better part of a year, and tie up all the loose ends. When everyone question had been answered, and every mystery explained, that was when he would retire.

Patrick continued with his thoughts on George Minkus. "I knew karma would find him one day. How poetic it is that the day it caught up to him was the day he returned to Rock Bottom."

"Poetic, indeed," Dom agreed. "Who else?"

"Well, George Minkus had a son. A lobster named Larry. He was a lifeguard down at the Goo Lagoon. I was disturbed to hear of his passing. I can't help but feel like I'm partly to blame. You see, he was doing me a favour that day. I had sent him to George's lair - where Spongebob was being held captive – and told him to rescue Spongebob and escort him to Rock Bottom, where I thought he would be safe. From what I understand, shortly after Larry retrieved Spongebob, he was shot dead by Sandy Cheeks. I heard the gunshot through an earpiece I had given Larry so we could communicate. I don't know for sure why Sandy did what she did, but if I had to hazard a guess, I'd say she was giving Arthur some sugar on the side. She likely became so attached to him that when he told her to bring Spongebob back to the Treedome for testing, killing Larry was a small price to pay in order to keep Arthur by her side."

"Damn, Jack. Bitches be crazy. So, Sandy Cheeks… what happened to her?"

"Dead. The consensus on the Bikini Bottom Secret Organizations internet forum is that the Cetaceans had something to do with it. That group isn't active on the forum at all, and every other organization has some sort of alibi. I'd heard from a few Nosey Nellys that Arthur sent Sandy to Spongebob's house shortly after he failed their little 'test,' in order to give him a little rude awakening… as if locking him alone in the Treedome wasn't enough. Anyways, apparently Old Man Jenkins - who isn't a member of any organization by the way, but somehow found his way onto the forums – saw her sneaking into Spongebob's house a few months ago. Old Man Jenkins, however, only started posting on the forums about a week ago, so that's when I learned of it. I immediately sent my boy Scooter to go check it out. He told me he found Spongebob's snail Gary drowned in the bathtub. He asked if he should get rid of him before Spongebob sees, but I decided against it. If Spongebob got home and found Gary was _missing_, well, I don't even want to think about what would happen. No… as hard as it would be for him, it'd be better if he got the closure of seeing the snail dead himself. Only problem is now Spongebob is probably going to be looking for vengeance anyways, so it was really a lose-lose situation. So then Scooter asks me if he should check around for Sandy, because at this point, no one had seen her for months, right? Not since she snuck into the house so many months ago. I say, yeah, look around. About an hour later Scoot gives me a ring, says he found Sandy buried in the backyard of Spongebob's house, coffin and all. I told him to fill the hole back up and leave it alone."

Dominic went over the story in his head, and it all seemed to make sense. In fact, Sandy's body had been recovered by his team and brought in for examination. Dom thought a little harder and remembered that Cheeks body had been found _not_ in Spongebob's backyard, however, but in the Bikini Bottom Cemetery. Something was fishy. He decided to dig a little deeper, but attempted to remain subtle, weary that Patrick didn't know of this development.

"And that's where Cheeks' body is today?" Dom inquired.

Patrick nodded. "Spongebob has no idea."

Finally, Dom had the advantage. He contemplated sharing the news with Patrick, but decided against it. Knowing this could come in handy later. He didn't know if this information was crucial or not, but fearing that it would change things, he kept it to himself.

"Alright, seeing as you just ate up five minutes of our time with that spiel, Charles Dickens, I guess I only have one more person I have to ask about: Spongebob Squarepants. Is he alive?"

"Well, that's why we're on this bus, Mr. Roughneck. I'm going to kill Spongebob Squarepants, and I need your help."

"Wait, wait, wait!" Dom shot back. "I ain't helping you kill Squarepants! I need him alive. He's the crux of this whole case, and without him, I may never find get to the bottom of this." Dom paused for a moment, realizing the true unusualness of the request. "Say… why would you want to kill Squarepants anyways? By the sounds of it, you guys are best buds. You got Larry to help him escape George's lair, and you sent this Scooter guy to see what it was Cheeks did at Squarepants' house. So if that's the case, why would you want him dead?"

"That's where things get kind of blurry, isn't it Dominic? I know it might be hard to understand this, but the bottom line is: _Spongebob broke the rules_."

"Broke the rules?!" Dom fired back, prompting Patrick to remind him to keep it down. Dom spoke softer this time, but still retained a sense of urgency. "What do you mean 'broke the rules?' Like, when he killed Arthur and George? You said yourself you were glad to see George go!"

"You're right, Dominic. And while I personally think things would be a little easier if Arthur were still alive, Spongebob's little act of homicide back at the station is _not_ the motivation for my transgressions. The reason for my change of heart is Spongebob's recent affiliation with the Cetaceans. I'd love to go on, but if you'll take a glance out your window, you'll see we're in downtown Bikini Bottom. Don't worry Dominic, I'm sure this won't be the last time you and I have a little get-together, but right now, we have to focus on the task at hand. The plan."

Dominic stewed for a moment, and reluctantly nodded his head.

"Alright, right now the bus is on its final route of the night before the morning rush. It's almost 6:00 am, so this is really our only chance to get away with this. The bus driver is bringing us to the Bikini Bottom central bus stop - you know the one. It's in the middle of downtown and when we arrive, there's sure to be a group of people eager to get on the bus and start their day. We can't let that happen. We only have a few minutes before we arrive, so listen closely. You're going to walk up to the bus driver and ask him to shut off that fucking music. It's not really important, but if he doesn't shut it off before he bites the dust, I might not be able to figure out to turn it off and we'll be stuck with it. Seriously, I can't stand to hear Shaggy tell us 'it wasn't me' anymore. Once the music is off, you're going to use this gun and blow his head off. I'll take it from there."

Dom immediately declined, and attempted to appease Patrick. "Yo, fuck 'dat. Look, I'll help you out with whatever you need once we get off this bus, it's just… this guy has been so nice driving all the way from Rock Bottom, and my dad used to be a bus driver and…" Dom's voice trailed off, noticing a flaw in Patrick's plan. "Wait a second… you said yourself the bus driver can't know I'm on the bus. He'll know something's up and call the police once I start talking to him." Just then, Dom remembered he was the police. Patrick was asking him to kill someone. He should open fire right now. Dom began to reach for his own holstered gun, but then realized that so far, he hadn't been playing the role of noble police officer. There really was no reason to start now. Besides, this Patrick guy was a fountain of information, and without him, he would almost certainly _never_ get to the bottom of this case. Furthermore, as he brought his hand down, he realized his holster was empty. Patrick had taken the gun long before he put him in the trunk, obviously.

"I realize that, you pleb," Patrick said, countering what Dom had said eight sentences ago. "But he's not going to have time to do anything. You're not going to let him. It's 'music off' and then '_bang, bang,' _okay?Five seconds of his time. And listen, I can't just put you back in the trunk and stroll off the bus because we _need_ this bus."

Dom felt defeated. He grasped at the one piece of bargaining he had left. "Okay well… why can't _you_ do it?"

"Because, Dominic…I've never killed anyone before. The only person I intend to kill in my lifetime is Spongebob Squarepants. Now, please… we have about two more stoplights before the morning bus pick up, and if you don't get up there before then, I promise you, we are _both_ fucked."

Dom thought for a moment, trying his best to weasel his way out of this, but the way Patrick delivered that last threat frightened him to the core. It was clear he wasn't using any kind of smoke and mirrors. Dom couldn't help but truly feel that if he didn't complete this task, things were going to get a _lot _worse.

Patrick held the barrel of the gun and offered it to Dominic. Dom noticed it was the gun from his holster. No surprise there. He hesitantly accepted, grabbing it by the stock. He brought it down by his right side and turned toward the front of the bus. Patrick quietly reminded him: "Dom… don't do anything stupid."

Dominic stopped for a moment, sighed, and began to approach a man who wouldn't live to see the sun rise. The bus pulled up to a red light as Dominic reached the driver's seat. He looked out the windshield and out to the dim streets of downtown Bikini Bottom. Not a fish in sight. He recognized the location. The bus stop was around the next corner. As the bus came to a halt and waited for the light to turn green, Dom finally spoke.

"Excuse me, sir." His voice shook. He couldn't look the driver in the eye. Instead, he hung his head down, speaking to his shoes. "Would you mind turning off that music for one second…"

His voice trailed off and he waited for the speakers to sing their last refrain. He tightened his grip around the gun. His eyes remained glued to the floor. Seconds passed. The music didn't stop. Dom waited. The light remained red. The music didn't stop. Dom couldn't help but lift his head, curious if the driver had heard his plea. He was surprised to see the driver looking back at him. The driver smiled at Dom, his off-centre glasses resting on his nose. His eyes lit up from under the single cracked lens, and finally, he spoke.

"Don't worry, Detective Roughneck. I'm going to get you out of here."


	25. Chapter 25: The Three Muskequeers

Dom sighed. "For fuck's sakes, Andy Dick, I thought we agreed my new nickname was 'Beercules'." He turned back to check if Patrick was getting suspicious, but it seemed the starfish was too busy clashing clans on his phone to pay much close attention. Taking advantage of his apparent ephemeral respite, Dom parked it down in the seat immediately next to the driver's. "So, what are you doing here, kid?"

Alex looked vacantly through Dominic. "Tell me, my friend," he said, "have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

There was a beat. Dominic looked around, then back at Alex, who hadn't moved from his thousand-yard stare in several seconds. "Uh," he began, then stopped short. Struggling to find his words, Dom finally settled on, "What the actual fuck was that, dude?"

Alex returned to his old self and giggled. "The Joker says that. So does Earl Sweatshirt. I thought it'd be funny."

Dom put his head in his hands. "Jesus fucking Christ, you scary fucking kid. So what are you doing here anyways?"

"Solving the case, of course!" Alex rummaged in his front pocket and extracted a ten-foot long list of clues, suspects, and groceries. Dom figured the kid's multitude of pocket protectors must have been keeping it contained. "I've been doing extensive research since you went to that rendezvous yesterday. I even found some important clues on the Bikini Bottom Secret Organizations internet forum."

Dom shot to his feet. "Wait just a Texas minute, Phil Collins! You mean to tell me _you're_ in on all this secret society biznasty too?"

Alex leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes and dusting some imaginary dust off his collar. He had on that shit-eating grin that made Dom want to punch babies and kittens, but mainly just Alex. "_Well_," he said, his voice full of pomp and grandeur and smarmy bullshit, "I don't mean to brag or anything, but I'll have you know that I'm a member of the Goofy Goober club, first class."

Dom sat back down. "You ruin everything," he said. "Every time something cool happens involving you, you find a way to ruin it and make it lame. I hate you and I wish you were dead."

"Anyways, on to the matter at hand." Alex pulled a full cup of coffee out of his front pocket and gave it to Dom. "I saw on the forum that Patrick Star was going to be meeting with a contact, but first he had to get out of Rock Bottom. I got worried that you were in trouble, so I decided to intercept him and make sure you were okay. The bus driver was happy to lend me his vehicle when I showed him your badge."

Dom gave himself the ol' Alabama pat-down before coming to the conclusion that, yes, he had definitely left his badge at the office when he went to meet up with Arthur. Alex pulled it out of his front pocket and gave it back. "So what do we do now?" Dom asked. "Patrick wants me to help him with something, but I'm not sure what. The only thing I know for sure is that he's extremely dangerous. In fact, he sent me up here to kill you."

"Really? Geez Louise, that's bonkers! If it wasn't me at the wheel, would you have gone through with it?"

"To be honest with you, I'm still not completely sure I'm not going to. Anyways, I'd better get back to him, he's probably getting suspicious. And that light is going to turn green any second, you'd better turn on your turn signal. Like, right noHUAAAAGGGGGHHH!"

At that precise second, what would go down as Bikini Bottom's most catastrophic traffic accident of all time began. History would forever remember Alex as not only the bright-eyed young detective who would later go on to solve the infamous Goo Lagoon Strangler case, but also as the faggot who couldn't turn on his blinker in time. It started when a greasy pickup slammed into the broadside of the bus, followed by two minivans having a head-on with each other as they both tried to swerve out of the way. After it had begun, there was no way to stop the carnage; vehicle after vehicle was added to the vortex of destruction, as commuters, truck drivers, men, women, children, and babies kept swerving and spinning and colliding. It was a disaster the likes of which had never been seen before and likely would never be seen again.

After several hours of mayhem, Dom picked himself up off the ground. His vision was hazy and his ears were ringing, but he was thankful to at least be alive. Twisted metal was everywhere, everything was on fire, and millions were dead. "Marshall Mathers! Are you okay?" he cried, sifting through the wreckage for any sign of Alex. Thankfully, both Alex and Patrick had also survived, and the three of them took stock of the situation.

"This is horrible!" Patrick shouted. "The plan's gone completely off the rails. Not only is our ride totalled, but we wasted so much time already. Scooter says he's still at Spongebob's house; we'll regroup with him there and figure out how to move forward. Looks like we'll have to go it on foot."

It was high noon by the time the trio reached the pineapple. Scooter was waiting for them outside. Patrick handled the introductions. "Scooter's been staying here for the past week, performing an investigation on the premises to see what Sandy and Arthur were up to. You said you had something to report, Scooter?"

Scooter nodded. "Yeah. Some time in the past twenty-four hours, Gary was removed from the bathtub and buried in the back yard. In my opinion, the only possible culprit is Spongebob Squarepants."

Dom was furious. He grabbed Scooter by the collar. "You mean he was here? How could you have let him come and go! We could have had him by now!"

Scooter shrugged. "I was all the way down in the basement, and I had my headphones in, blasting some Shaggy. You know that song he does? The one that goes, like, 'It wasn't me'? Fuckin' love that shit. Actually, speaking of the basement, that's the crux of my report. C'mon, you guys are gonna want to see this for yourselves."

Scooter led them downstairs. In the back corner of the room, behind a couch and under a rug, was a trap door with a combination lock. "Took me a while to break the code, but I managed it eventually." Scooter opened the hatch with a grunt, revealing a ladder that went down far below the sea floor.

"Wait a second," Dom said, "I did an investigation of this house when Squarepants first went missing. There's no way my team could have missed something like this."

"That's because it's several layers down," Patrick explained. "Scooter's a former Sciuridean, so he has the power to see through illusions. The powers you and I possess as high-ranking Larideans would allow us to see through a few layers, but nothing this sophisticated. Whatever's down here, somebody _really_ didn't want it to ever be found."

Dom still didn't fully understand, but he followed Scooter and Patrick into the darkness with Alex on his tail.

Scooter flicked on a light when they reached the bottom, revealing a large room full of computers, all of which were on and seemed to be running some kind of complicated process. Against the far wall was a supercomputer with a progress bar at 99% and a timer counting down from eight hours. Above it was a banner sporting a crudely-drawn whale.

"No way," said Patrick. "Is this place what I think it is?"

Scooter nodded. "A fully operational Cetacean base. Looks like it's been here a while, too."

Dom looked around in awe. "You mean to tell me Spongebob built a Cetacean bunker under his house? But why?" He turned back to the supercomputer. "And what's going to happen with this countdown hits zero?"

Scooter shook his head. "I don't think this bunker was built under Spongebob's house, dude, I think Spongebob's house was built on top of this bunker. Did he ever even know he was living on top of this place? I doubt it. And as for the countdown…" Scooter checked the screen of one of the smaller computers and started typing at a blinding speed. "I still can't say. The encryption in this system is way too complicated, even for me. But if the Cetaceans were stationed here for as long as I think they were, they could have been waging psychic warfare on Spongebob's mind for years, subtly influencing his behaviour from the very beginning."

Alex, Patrick, and Dom all looked at each other and then up at the banner. Just what were the Cetaceans plotting? For himself, Dom was still wondering what exactly this one innocent little sponge had to do with all this secrecy and conspiracy. The group's deep concentration was suddenly interrupted, however, by a meowing coming from near the bottom of the ladder. Startled, Dom turned around to see a pink-shelled snail crawling towards them. He walked towards it and picked it up. "Who let this stray in?" he asked, but then he noticed Patrick's face. His mouth was wide open, and eyes made him look like he wanted to scream but couldn't.

"Scooter, what's going on here?" Patrick asked. "What did you do?"

Scooter got up from his computer and grabbed the snail from Dom's arms. "Well, uh, I guess there's some explaining in order here. Dom, this is Gary."

"Gary? As in Spongebob's pet snail? But I thought – "

Scooter immediately started freaking out. "Look Patrick, I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I just needed to understand it for myself before I got anybody else involved. I've known about this for a while, what goes on here. To be completely honest, I knew because it happened to me. I drowned at Goo Lagoon, Patrick. I got buried in the sand by that stupid Bubble Buddy, and the tide came in, and – and I died. I mean really died, dude. I saw the light in the tunnel, I had wings and a halo and everything. But I got a second chance, dude. And now Gary – I guess because he's just a snail, it only took a day. Something as big as a squirrel would take longer, but Sandy's probably been here for months, so I don't understand why she hasn't – any day now, she should – "

Patrick put his hands on Scooter's shoulders. "Scooter," he said, "I need you to calm down. Tell me, as simply and specifically as you can, what happened to you and Gary. I need to understand what's going on here."

Scooter broke away from Patrick's grip. His breathing was haggard, but he tried his best to pull himself together. "There's not really that much to understand, dude. There's something about this place, something special. When dead people are buried in Spongebob's back yard, they – I don't know how else to explain it, dude. They come back to life."


	26. Chapter 26: The Crow & Other References

Dom sighed harder than he had sighed at the beginning of the previous chapter. "For fuck's sake, Skeeter. Are you trying to tell me that Squarepants' yard is home to… an Indian Burial Ground?" At that moment, a resounding crack of thunder echoed through the basement's basement.

"I don't know, dude," Scooter replied, his eyes nervously peering around the bunker. "I suppose it could do."

"Sweet mother of Neptune."

There was a lull in the room; no one knew that to say. Finally, Alex had the courage to break the silence.

"Say, does this situation remind anyone else of that movie? You know, that one with Dale Midkiff?"

"_Pet Sematary_?" asked Scooter.

"Nah, _Air Bud: World Pup_."

There was another lull. This time, Dom was the first to speak.

"What now boys?"

Scooter began to respond, but quickly stopped himself, and instead inquisitively turned to face Patrick, who hadn't spoken since the details of Scooter's perplexing past had been revealed. Dom and Alex did the same, eager to hear what he had to say. Patrick stared ahead however, his brow wrinkled, ignoring their inquiring eyes. His face was that of a troubled man – of a man who couldn't see his forehead. However, it was clear to all present that this was not the only thing bothering him. Because Patrick had been in the game for so long now, it was rare that something truly caught him off-guard and caused him to reassess his plans. Nonetheless, this was the second time something of this magnitude had occurred today – the first being the bus crash. Unbeknownst to Patrick, this would go on to be the most momentous day of his life, as the third (and most shocking) reveal was still yet to come.

"Patrick? You still with us, dude?" asked Scooter. For whatever reason, this question seemed to lift Patrick from his aberration, and his eyes met Scooter's. The two stared at each other for a few seconds, but Patrick spoke up before it got too awks.

"Listen," he said, addressing not just Scooter, but everyone in the room. "I understand this is a lot to swallow."

"What do you mean?" Dom interrupted. "Don't speak to us like that. We're all handling this a lot better than you, you emo fucker."

Alex piped in. "Hey now, Mr. Roughneck, that's a pretty offensive thing to say. I had a friend who was emo once and she wouldn't appreci-"

"Clam it, limp-dick." Dom turned his attention back to Patrick. "I'm all for you giving us some advice, but don't act like you aren't as surprised as we are."

"Fine," responded Patrick. "I'll admit, this has caught me a little off-guard. However, we can't spend too much time standing around. Scooter, you've always been my main man, so I'm going to believe everything you've told us. I'm going to believe that you died at Goo Lagoon. And I'm going to believe that you were resurrected. And I'm going to believe that you don't know what all of this" – Patrick motioned to the various computers – "means. But before we move on, I'm going to ask you one question: Have you told us everything you know?"

All eyes turned to Scooter. Even Gary, who had been placed on the ground at some point during the conversation, peered up, awaiting his response.

"Of course."

Patrick eyed Scooter for another second or two, as if waiting for him to go on, and then responded. "Alrighty then." He paused, and then began speaking to Dom and Alex as well. "Obviously, the idea of an Indian Burial Ground, as Dominic so eloquently put it, is pretty big news. However, of everything that Scooter told us, it's not what I found the most interesting. The thing that caught my attention was all this hubbub about Sandy Cheeks. Scooter, is it safe to say the revival process should have been complete by now?"

"Well, I'm no expert at revival processes, which I am, but Gary couldn't have been buried for any longer than 24 hours. And as you know, Sandy has been buried for months."

"So she _should _be alive by now, right?"

"Right. But why isn't she?"

"We can't waste time concerning ourselves with the logistics of it all, Scoot. Hell, we should be thankful for whatever it is that's kept her in the ground this long. But we can't assume that she's incapable of being brought back."

"I'm not assuming that, dude. Like I said, any day now she should-"

"That's the problem. Don't you understand, Scooter? You know who Cheeks was affiliated with. Assuming that she had no idea this place existed when she was alive, there's no telling what she'll do with the information once she gets resurrected. We're lucky enough you're on our side Scooter, because if this power falls into the wrong hands, everything will change. We can't take any chances… We have to dig up Sandy Cheeks."

Another crack of thunder echoed through the bunker.

"Whoa, Pat," replied Scooter, his eyes wide. "I'm not so sure that's a good idea. I mean, what if digging up Sandy puts some gypsy curse on us or something? I don't think the powers that be take kindly to a couple of dudes desecrating their Indian Burial Ground."

"Relax, Scooter. You already did it once, right? A week ago when I first sent you here to look for Cheeks, you found her in the backyard, remember?"

Scooter paused before attempting to retort. "Yeah, but-"

"It'll be fine, Scoot. It's not like I'm going to piss on her grave or anything. We're just going to go dig her up and take her out; then we'll fill the hole back up and it'll be like nothing happened."

"Okay, but-"

"I THINK WE SHOULD SPLIT UP!" yelled Alex, who had been silent ever since being dubbed a "limp-dick." Dom clenched his fists, angered by such a stupid suggestion. Before he was able to show Alex what he was looking for, however, Patrick chimed in.

"Not a bad idea, Alex. Cliché, but not bad. It shouldn't take all four of us to dig up Sandy, so we'll split up into pairs."

"I'll be in the pair that doesn't have to dig up Sandy," said Scooter. "I- uh… I already did it once, I think I should do something else."

Patrick hesitated before responding. "Sure, okay. Dom and I will go."

"Fine by me," replied Dom. "After that ordeal we had on the bus, I'd say we're quite the dynamic duo."

"What should Scooter and I do, Patrick?" asked Alex. "I'm up for anything!"

"Tell me, Alex," responded Patrick, "have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?"

Alex was stunned. "You mean outside of the academics?"

"What I mean is, how experienced are you with breaking and entering?"

"Not experienced at all, of course! But you know me Patrick, I can adapt! Also, I'm real good at keeping a low profile! You didn't even know it was me driving the bus, remember?!"

"I remember, Alex. You'll be perfect for this job; I need you and Scooter to break into the Krusty Krab. As you may know, the Krusty Krab has been out of business ever since Spongebob went AWOL, so you shouldn't have much trouble. Once you're inside, I want you two to look for any sign that someone has been there recently. Krabs would have locked the place up tight, so look for open cash registers, left-on fryers, desks that have been ruffled through, that sort of thing. Spongebob is on the move and if I know him at all, he'd have stopped by the Krusty Krab."

"Will do, Cap'n!" Alex was excited to be given a job that didn't involve cappuccinos and fried dough confectionery.

"Alright," declared Patrick, "anything else to discuss before we part ways?"

Dom shook his head, but he knew he shouldn't have. He knew he should mention to Patrick that Sandy had been recovered from the Bikini Bottom Cemetery Wednesday morning – four days ago – but he couldn't bring himself to do so; not in front of everybody. Dom realized there were two possible outcomes to the upcoming excavation. The first, and most likely, is that Sandy Cheeks is nowhere to be found. How could she be? The last time Dom checked, which had been Wednesday afternoon, she was still being examined at the forensics lab. The second outcome, as impossible as it seemed, is that Sandy Cheeks is indeed buried in Spongebob's backyard. While this would be optimal for him, due to the fact that he wouldn't have any explaining to do, Dom knew it was absurd.

"I have an idea, Cap'n!" announced Alex. "You see that big clock right there? The one that's counting down?" Alex pointed to the countdown on the supercomputer, which now read _7:52. _"Well, that's got to be pretty important, right? What giant red countdown _isn't?!_"

Dom mumbled something under his breath.

"So here's what I suggest!" he continued. "I suggest we synchronize watches! We all set our watches to display this very countdown, and that way we can all keep track of it!"

"That's a great idea, kid," said Dom, rather sarcastically. "But look around! You're the only doofus here that wears a watch!"

"Not to worry!" proclaimed Alex. "I brought enough for everybody!" As he said this, Alex pulled out three state-of-the-art digital watches from his chest pocket. "It'll only take me a minute to program the countdown into them, and then we'll be good to go! It'll be like _Charlie's Angels!"_

Dom was just about unleash when Patrick conceded, "Not a bad idea, Alex. In fact, it's downright cunning." Dom couldn't believe it: he was surrounded by a bunch of schmeebs. _At least Scooter seems like an alright guy_, he thought.

Just as Alex claimed, he was able to set up all the watches in about a minute or so, and they all read the same time: _7:50._

"Well then," proclaimed Patrick, "Blast off."

Patrick led the way up the ladder and reminded the last one up to shut off the lights. Once Scooter climbed out of the trap door - following the three others - he made sure to give the combination lock a couple of spins and move the rug back to where it was when they had arrived. He double checked to make sure everything looked as it should, and then climbed the stairs up to the main floor. He was surprised to find a lone Dom staring out the front window of the house.

"It's looking pretty dreary out there," said Dom. Raindrops pattered across the window, and tumbleweeds raced across the street courtesy of high-octane winds.

"Where are the others?" asked Scooter.

"Patrick is in the shitter and Alex went to go feed Gary."

Scooter nodded, and the two both watched as the storm became more intense by the second.

"Listen Scooter, I've got something I need to get off my chest," confessed Dom.

Scooter exhaled a sigh of relief. "Me too, man. I couldn't say it with Patrick around, but I think I can confide in you. It's about Sandy…"

Just then, Scooter felt a breath on his shoulder.

"It can't rain all the time," said the intruder. His voice was low and whispered. Dom and Scooter both whipped around to face the man. It was Alex.

"Why do you sound like that?" asked Scooter.

Alex perked up, and the next words he spoke were in a nasally and familiar tone. "I was being The Crow!"

Dom leaned into Alex's ear and whispered, "You're dead meat, kiddo." Just then, Patrick emerged from the bathroom, swinging the door shut behind him.

"It was just gas," he declared. "Let's get a move on. Dom, you and I will go out the back and start digging. Scooter, you and Alex head down to the Krusty Krab. My advice is to enter through the back, but do whatever you see fit. I advise you two to be extra careful. Make sure not to leave any trace that you were ever there, alright? Dom and I will need time to dispose of Sandy's body once we find her, so how about we meet back here when our watches strike _7:00?"_

They all nodded.

"Sounds good boys. And before we go, let us partake in singing the classic barbershop quarter version of 'The Goofy Goober Song.'"

Alex began to belt out the first verse before realizing that was a joke and he was the only one singing. The three men had a good laugh at Alex's expense and amicably parted ways. Alex thought about killing them all one day, but quickly snapped out of it. They were just having a goof! He skipped up to Scooter's side as the two headed out the front door.

At the back of the house, spirits weren't quite as high. Patrick directed Dom to the hall closet, where he fetched two similar digging shovels. He approached Patrick and extended one of the shovels toward him. Instead, Patrick opted for the other shovel – the one Dom was holding closer to himself. Patrick leaned in close to Dom's face and gave him a sage piece of advice: "Smaller shovel, smaller hole."

With that in mind, the two trudged out the back door, and were immediately taken aback by the intensity of the rainstorm. The wind slammed into their bodies, and they found walking forward wasn't as easy as it was indoors. It was as if the elements were trying to stop them from continuing, but Dom and Patrick weren't listening. They pushed on, and Dom yelled over to Patrick, struggling to be heard over enormous air currents and occasional sounds of thunder.

"How do we know where to dig?" he bellowed. His head was turned so Patrick could hear him, but first and foremost, he was attempting to keep the rain from hitting his eyes.

"I never really thought about it," cried Patrick. "She could be anywhere!" Patrick hesitated for a second, and began talking to himself more than anything. "In fact, it's lucky that Scooter even managed to find Sandy in the first place."

Over on the path to the Krusty Krab, Scooter and Alex weren't faring the storm much better. Alex's glasses were continually fogging up, and he contemplated removing them altogether, but the prospect of meeting some honey along the way forced him to keep them on his face. He wasn't sure of much in this world, but one of the things he did know was girls go crazy for a guy in specs.

"I wish I had my surfboard, dude," said Scooter, speaking the first words since the two had left Spongebob's house. "I could use it like some sort of shield or something."

"Say, have you tried surfing since you…you know…became a zombie?"

"I'm not a zombie, dude. This happened to me…" Scooter paused for a moment, and then continued. "…About a year ago, and I still eat Krabby Patties and Kelp Fries and everything else I used to. Don't think _Night of the Living Dead_, think… look, you like _The Crow_, right? It's like that, except I'm not telepathic, and I don't have super-strength, and I'm not on a quest for vengeance. I'm just normal."

Alex nodded and adjusted his glasses.

"I understand," he said. The two pressed through the storm in silence a little while longer until Alex asked, "Well, what about immortality?"

"Alex, we've got to focus," Scooter quickly responded. "We're here."

At the same time, Dom and Patrick were on their third and fourth hole respectively, to no avail. "This is ridiculous!" shouted Dom, wiping the sweat and rain from his brow.

"Just keeping going!" yelled Patrick from the opposite side of the yard, as he continued frantically digging. "She's around here somewhere, we just have to keep looking!"

"I'm done looking!" Dom cried, throwing his shovel to the ground. It appeared the combination of his fruitless search, the brutal storm, and the events of the last 24 hours entirely had finally caused him to lose his temper. "Even if we do find the coffin, she won't be in it!"

Patrick lowered his shovel. "What?"

Just then, a shard of lightning ripped through the sky and made contact with the earth directly between Dom and Patrick. For a brief moment in time, the yard lit up completely, and the shocked look on Patrick's face was made visible. Dom didn't get a chance to see it, however, as the suddenness of the lightning bolt had knocked him off of his feet. Patrick, who was standing five feet deep, managed to stand his ground – even as the sound of thunder cracked through his ears. Dom, on the other hand, laid at the bottom of his freshly-started hole and patted his hands across his chest. It took him a second to realize he hadn't been electrocuted and had actually just been a scared little pussy. He sat up and brushed the grime off of his shirt before turning to face Patrick, expecting to be met with questions about what he meant when he had said "she won't be in it." He was surprised to not find Patrick looking back at him; instead, he was hunched over in the middle of the yard, desperately scooping dirt over his shoulder.

Scooter and Alex approached the back door of the Krusty Krab as a peal of thunder cracked through the sky. Alex was the first to try to get in, attempting to use his sleeve to turn the slippery doorknob. "That's not going to work, dude," insisted Scooter. "Like Pat said, this place is locked up tight. Step aside for a second." Alex moved over and pressed his back against the wall of the building, struggling to shelter himself from the storm. Scooter began tinkering with the electronic keypad that rested below the doorknob. Despite the rain smacking against his back and causing his fingers to constantly slip, he worked at a breakneck speed. As Alex waited for Scooter to conquer the keypad, the fog on his glasses built up, and he was forced to remove them and give the lenses the ol' Alabama rub-down. Though his hands were now shaking from the cold, he eventually managed, and quickly fixed his glasses back onto his face. For the time being, the specs were clean and he could see what was in front of him. It was a double-edged sword, however, as in the distance, a tornado larger than the Flying Dutchman was racing towards the Krusty Krab.

"Holy fuck, a twister!" screamed Alex. He abandoned the wall and dived beneath a near-by wooden picnic table, desperately seeking refuge. As the deafening rumble of the tornado gradually grew, Alex perched his head between his knees and awaited death. Suddenly, he was grabbed by the shoulders and dragged from underneath the picnic table. He was still holding his eyes tightly shut; he was sure his captor was none other than the Devil himself. Alex was being pulled on his back through layers of mud, and he knew for certain he was on his way to Hell. Though the blaring sound of impending doom was much louder than anything he could muster up, he hysterically attempted to apologize for all his wrongdoings. Suddenly, he felt himself sliding across a cold, hard surface, and the sound that had just before encompassed his entire being began to fade. Even so, he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes for fear of what he might greet him.

"Alex? Dude? You okay?"

The voice was familiar; it didn't sound like it belonged to the Lord of Hell at all. In fact, it sounded like it belonged to an angel. One with wings and a halo. Alex opened his eyes.

"Alex, my man!" the voice said.

It took Alex a second or two, but he soon realized it wasn't any sort of spiritual being, but simply his friend Scooter!

"Scooter!" Alex declared, struggling to stand.

"That's my name, don't wear it out!" Scooter outstretched his hand and helped Alex to his feet.

"Where are we?"

"In the Krusty Krab, where else could we be?"

Alex thought for a moment. "…I guess nowhere else."

"Man, that was a pretty heavy twister out there. Why did you jump under that table? I had the door opened."

"Oh, I guess it's just a family tradition," replied Alex, rather embarrassed.

"It's all good bro man! We're here now, and that twister passed us right by. So if you're up to it, we should probably start checking this place out, you know. Doing what we came here to do."

Alex adjusted his glasses. "Let's do it."

Back in Spongebob's backyard, Patrick was still digging. He hadn't even mentioned what Dom had said before the lightning struck; in fact, he hadn't said anything. Dom watched from a distance as Patrick frantically excavated dirt and threw it to the side. As Patrick dug deeper, Dom grew more and more nervous, as he knew Patrick was going to turn up empty handed. Until a few minutes ago, at least Dom had the privilege of Patrick not _knowing_ he knew. _He should have just kept his mouth shut, and acted surprised when the search came up fruitless. Now that he had let on that he knew something, there would be no excuse._

_Thok._

Patrick had hit something. "Fuck," mumbled Dom. Patrick began scraping away the dirt that rested on the newly found surface. Dom watched Patrick's face, trying to understand what was going through the man's mind, but all he saw was determination. Patrick continued to unearth the object, and after several minutes of aggressive digging, he finally set the shovel down.

"Aren't you going to come help me, Dom?" Patrick asked. Dom was stunned. _Had he found Sandy?_

"Uh, yeah, sure." Dom climbed up from the spot he had occupied since the lightning struck and slowly approached the hole. Against his better judgement, he peered down. The hole had to be about six feet by six feet, and at the bottom was a large wooden coffin with the inscription _R.I.P._ etched into the façade.

"Well?" questioned Patrick. "Aren't you going to open it?"


	27. Chapter 27: 83 percent Dialogue

The lid of the coffin was heavy; Dom had to stick in his shovel and lever it open. He was unsure of what he would find within, and even less sure of what Patrick intended to do now that he knew Dom had been keeping secrets. With a grunt, the lid finally gave way, and the contents of the coffin were clear to both Dom and Patrick.

There was a business card in the coffin. Dom bent down and picked it up to have a closer look. There was a whale in the bottom-left, meaning this was a Cetacean card, but as Dom tried to read the rest of the contents, he started to feel lightheaded. As he leaned on his shovel to steady himself, Dom began to experience a strange vision. There was a boat in a parking lot, and behind it was a building. Not just any boat and building, though. There was something significant about this location. _Of course!_ thought Dom. _This is my old police cruiser. And it's parked in the lot of the station._ The vision was blurry, but Dom could make out a shadowy figure approaching the cruiser. If he could just see a bit more clearly, he would be able to make out the face, but –

"HEY! Snap out of it!" Dom turned his head away from the card and the image of his cruiser vanished. Patrick moved his hand to cover up the card. "It looked like you were going into some kind of trance there. The contents of a Cetacean card are written within the mind of whoever's looking at it. If you're not careful, it could leave a lasting imprint on your psyche."

Dom looked back at the card. The image started to return to him, but he closed his eyes. He had no doubt that the image on the card would show him who had planted the bomb that had injured Carl, but if Patrick was telling the truth, it wasn't worth the risk; he would have to figure it out on his own the old-fashioned way, with two fists and a highball full of something strong. "So what about you?" Dom asked. "What did you see when you looked at the card?"

Patrick's face went grave. "That's not important," he said as he turned away and picked his shovel back up. "Come on, help me fill these holes back up."

Dom grabbed Patrick by the shoulder, his temper getting the best of him. "Hey, wait a damn minute there! You know, I thought that since we're working together now, you would stop keeping secrets from me!"

"Secrets? You wanna talk about secrets?" Patrick whirled around with a crazed look in his eyes, brandishing his shovel like an absolute madman. "How did you know Sandy would already be gone, huh? Was it you who dug her up? Or is she already alive? Are you secretly working with the Sciurideans? Or the Cetaceans? Or is there something else going on?"

Dom took a step back and calmed himself down. "I'm sorry, it's nothing like that. We found Sandy buried in Bikini Bottom cemetery a few days ago. She's probably still in the forensics lab, if they haven't sent her to the morgue already." Dom considered telling Patrick that Scooter also knew something about Sandy he wasn't telling, but decided against it. The two of them could probably work that out on their own, and he didn't want to get involved where he wasn't wanted. "You believe me, don't you?"

The rain was falling hard now; sizable puddles were pooling up at the bottoms of the multitude of holes. Dom saw Patrick's face turn from angry to sad as he lowered the shovel. "Okay, that's all I needed to know. Thanks for being honest with me," Patrick said, and the two of them started working to get Spongebob's yard back to the way it had been.

A few moments passed in silence before Patrick spoke up again. "Look, Officer Roughneck, I hope you don't misunderstand me. I didn't get into this business because I enjoy lying to people. In fact, I can't stand all the deceit and treachery that's been going on in my life lately." Dom turned around to have a look at Patrick, but Patrick kept his back to Dom. He seemed fully absorbed in his shovelling. "I'm going to present you with a choice, one that somebody gave me when I got tangled up in this game. You can drop your shovel right now, go back to the station, and forget about everything you've seen over the past week, or I tell you everything, and you can finally see just how deep this rabbit hole goes. So what's it going to be? Will you choose to leave, or stay?"

Dom stopped filling the holes and turned to look at Patrick, who was still avoiding his gaze. The offer of information was tantalizing, but the prospect of leaving his old life behind was still scary to him. As if reading his thoughts, Patrick said, "Remember, you weren't able to kill your friend on the bus. Don't make any decisions you might regret, Dominic."

At that, Patrick's cell phone started ringing. "It's Scooter, I have to take this," he said as he answered it. "Think about what I said. Hello?"

"Patrick, you're not going to believe this," Scooter said, typing furiously at Mr. Krabs's keyboard. As he needed both hands to type, Scooter had got Alex to hold the phone up to his ear – it's bad for your neck to hold it in place with your shoulder. "I've found mark sheets of Mrs. Puff's going all the way back to two years ago! It looks like she had been sending them to Krabs with the grades almost completely uncloaked. What a score!"

"That makes sense," Patrick said on the other end of the line. "It was kept relatively secret even amongst Larideans, but Eugene's powers have been regressing dramatically in his old age. If Mrs. Puff wanted to funnel information to Krabs, she would have had no choice but to leave it in a state where even you could read it."

"Well summarized, old buddy," Scooter said. He pulled out the floppy disk that he kept in his trousers at all times for hacking-related emergencies. "I'll bring them back to the bunker so you and Dom can have a look. Who knows, maybe one of them has that info you were looking for." Realizing that Alex, not to mention the reader, probably had no idea what the fuck that was supposed to mean, Scooter turned his attention to Alex and explained. "The mark sheets are how the Larideans keep track of Bikini Bottom residents who appear to have the latent ability to see the invisible," he said to his vertically-challenged partner. "Word is that around the time Patrick and Spongebob first got involved in this whole mess, Puff was sending around a mark sheet to her inner circle that had some sensitive, game-changing intel on it that was cloaked at an extremely high level. It was so invisible that probably only the leader of the Larideans or something could see it! Like, practically double invisible or something."

"Wu," said Alex, somewhat oddly.

Scooter gave Alex a quizzical look. "Uh…yeah, sure. Let's get going back to the pineapple, dude. We may not have found Spongebob, but I'd say these mark sheets more than make up for it. Anything else you need here, Pat?"

"No, just hurry back and stay safe. We can't let these mark sheets fall into the wrong hands, especially if there's a possibility her secret mark sheet is in there."

"Wow," Alex said, "it's like one of my Japanese animes…" Scooter chuckled. Despite the danger he was now facing on a daily basis, he was happy that at least one of the team was enjoying all this adventure. He turned towards Alex, about to tell him to hang up the phone, but his breath caught in his throat.

Struggling to find his words, Scooter eventually managed to shout, "Dude! Watch out!"

Patrick was still on the other end of the line. "Scooter? What's going on over there? Scooter?!" But Scooter wasn't listening – his only concern was with Alex. Crawling up his spacey but pleased face was a single red dot, making its way to Alex's forehead.


End file.
